


For all the stars in Heaven

by Opening_A_Clog_Factory



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Babies, Blood, Cuddling, Fainting, Fighting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy, Just fluff basically, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of miscarriage, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Sick Roger Taylor (Queen), Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vomiting, mentions of domestic abuse, minor deacury, photo albums, pregnant Roger, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2020-04-06 14:06:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 48,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19064206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opening_A_Clog_Factory/pseuds/Opening_A_Clog_Factory
Summary: It is crazy how your life can change because of just one night. Theirs certainly did.





	1. Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies!  
> Welcome to my first ever attempt at a Queen fic. I've been writing this for a while, and I've finally decided to post it. It is basically just a while bunch of mpreg fluff, so I hope you enjoy! Please feel free to leave plenty of comments, I'd love to hear your feedback!

_It was all worth it. The months of hardship, happiness, those long ours of pain. That tiny little body, so pink, so alive. That small but impossibly loud voice. That incredibly beautiful baby lying in his arms made every ounce of their journey worth it. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he looked into his baby’s gorgeous eyes as they opened for the first time. This baby was the most exquisite thing in existence. Their family finally felt complete. It felt perfect._

Brian woke that morning to screaming, laughing and the smoke alarm going off. So, a typical morning in the flat he shared with three other grown men.

There was a pounding on his shared bedroom door, and before he could answer, an over-excited blond boy bounded in.

“Brian! Freddie burnt the pancakes and now the alarm is going off!” Roger shouted, climbing up on Brian’s bed and jumping up and down like a child who’s had one too many glasses of red cordial.  

The curly haired man pulled a pillow over his head and groaned. “It’s too early Rog! Get Deaky or something.”

Roger giggled. “Freddie’s waking him up now.” He jumped off the bed and sat down by Brian’s feet. “Come on, Bri, wakey wakey!” It was hard to believe this child was actually a grown man.

The older man reluctantly moved his heavy body off the bed. “Can I ask why you decided to make pancakes when neither of you know how to cook?” He said, rubbing the sleep out of his tired eyes. Roger stood there laughing, his blond waves unruly, his ocean blue eyes swallowing Brian whole. He was so perfect, so beautiful. Brian’s heart ached, he desperately wanted to lean down and kiss those perfectly soft lips and take his small body in his arms and cuddle him until the day he died. But all that was off limits, they were _friends_. Nothing more.

“You are such a child.”

 

John looked equally disgruntled as Brian did when they sat down at the kitchen bench. Roger and Freddie must have used the same unorthodox methods of waking a person up.

The pancake fiasco had been resolved, by John scraping away the blackened mess and leaving the burnt pan to soak.

“What’s on today then darlings?” Freddie asked, producing a pot of tea with a flourish.

John sighed. “Studio, idiot.”

“What are we recording today then? Your song or Roger’s horny car one?”

Roger stood up quickly, anger clearly bubbling up. “It’s not about having sex with a car!” He shouted, breathing heavily. “I put my heart and soul into that song!”

Freddie smiled, happy with the havoc he had already created that early in the morning. “Yes Rog, darling, we know.”

“That settles it then,” Brian began with a smile. “John’s best friend song.”

 

The recording session went without a hitch. They recorded all the vocals for ‘You’re my Best Friend’ and even started on one of Brian’s songs. 

But Brian simply couldn’t focus. Roger just looked so perfect, when he was entranced in his drum solos, puckering his lips ever so slightly and closing his eyes. He had tried to shake off these thoughts many a time, ever since he started to fall for the drummer way, _way_ back, but it had never worked. It was actually painful, to pine this hard over someone but never have the balls to tell them how you feel. Chances were that Roger even like him back! But Brian wouldn’t dare put their whole relationship at risk just because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.

“Brian!” Freddie called, snapping his fingers in front of his face, smirking. “Bit distracted dear?”

He flushed a deep red, finally realizing exactly how long he had been staring at Roger for. “Talk later, yeah?” Brian whispered to Freddie, who nodded. Freddie was the only one who knew about Brian’s little crush on the drummer, the word ‘little’ being a severe understatement.

The walk from the studio back to the flat wasn’t a long one, but the cold British autumn air was biting into their bones. It was only September, days after summer had ended but already the season had shifted into that bitter coolness. Shivering, the four scuttled up the stairs and into the flat, Roger instantly running to turn up the heating. They all agreed that take out was in order, to reward themselves for such a productive day and because no one could be bothered to cook after that morning’s fiasco. Curled up in his respective corner seat on the sofa, Brian felt something warm press against him. It was Roger, trying to wedge himself tightly into the nook behind Brian’s knees, making his heart swell.

“What? It’s cold, and your legs are plenty long enough,” The blond drummer defended when he caught the other man staring. A snort escaped Brian’s nose, a smile tugging at his lips.

 

“I don’t think I could ever eat again,” Freddie sighed, chucking his Chinese takeout box on the coffee table dramatically. “What next?”

Roger let out a long sigh. He had made Brian sit up so he could lay his head across the guitarist’s thighs, much to his delight. “Wine?”

The youngest boy giggled. “Of course that is obvious course of action, Roger,” John teased, ordering Freddie to fetch the good wine glasses. “To being productive, and to good Chinese food,” John toasted. A loud clinking reverberated through the room, followed by silence as everyone took a long, well deserved drink.

The empty wine bottle lay discarded in the corner, they had moved onto the vast collection of liquor Freddie had acquired. Brian could already tell that Roger was getting drunker by the second, and surprisingly, John wasn’t very far off.

Seizing this moment, Brian signalled to Freddie.

Once they were in the kitchen, Freddie crossed his arms. “You need to do something, Brian.”

The curly haired man frowned. “I can’t Fred. I can’t ruin everything.”

One dramatic sigh later; “You won’t! Trust me, I can tell when someone’s in love.”

“Roger isn’t even gay.”

“Stop making assumptions and grow a pair and tell him!” Freddie said, turning away and flouncing back to the lounge, leaving one very stunned Brian standing on the cold kitchen tiles.

 

By the time it had got to the small hours of that morning, the boys had drunk themselves out. Well, three of them had. Brian couldn’t stop repeating those words Freddie had said, as if by thinking them enough, he could undo the riddle. Assumptions, what assumptions? Could Roger possibly like the same sex? Freddie surely knew. Why was no one being straight with him and telling him the truth?

“One more, Johnny!” The boy in question whined, holding out his glass and flicking back his long blond hair.  

“I think you’ve all had quiet enough,” Brian said, grabbing the bottle from Deaky and the glass from Roger.

“Who do you think you are? My mum?” Freddie slurred angrily as his glass was taken too.

“Do you want the biggest hangover of your life tomorrow?”

He shook his head.

“Then go to bed,” Mother Brian ordered, sending Freddie and John skulking away. Roger, on the other hand, had decided in his drunken state that the couch would be a perfectly adequate place to, in the few minutes Brian had taken to sort out the other two, fall asleep.

The tall man smiled to himself as he lifted Roger gently off the sofa and carried him to their shared bedroom. His heart swelled as he tucked the boy into bed, pushing a few strands of blond hair off his pale face. He turned to finish dealing with the mess in the lounge, but a soft, husky voice stopped him.

“Brian…” Roger breathed.

Quick as a flash, Brian was back stroking those golden tresses again. “What is it, Rog?”

“Stay with me…” He whispered, eyes still closed.

Brian beamed. “Of course, darling,” Freddie was rubbing off on him.

Forgetting all about the disastrous lounge, he made short work of slipping in next to Roger, pulling the covers sung around them. Laying on their sides, Roger’s back was flush to Brian’s chest, the blond boy fitted so perfectly between his hips. Gently, he placed one arm around Roger’s middle, carefully pulling him in a bit closer. They had shared a bed before, while on tour, when the sleeping arrangements were rough, but tonight was different, they were just that bit closer, as if finally closing the gap. It was heavenly.


	2. Vodka

“So you’re telling me that you slept with him but didn’t even get close to sex?!” Freddie exclaimed loudly, sloshing tea out of his Queen mug.

“Shhhh!” Brian pressed a finger to the singer’s lips. “Yes, okay? I spooned him all night and didn’t get anything.”

Freddie smirked. “What did I say? He likes you, dear.”

“It wasn’t like that. He just didn’t want to be alone.”

“So he invited _you_ in! Brian are you blind?” Freddie cried, throwing his hands into the air. “How much more do you need?”

“He was drunk! It’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before.”

The singer sighed, exasperated. “My dear, I know you are scared, and I would be too, but this is ridiculous. I love you too much to let you continue this way.”

“Then tell me if you know he’s gay!”

“Find out for yourself, Bri,” Freddie said, shaking his head before heading into the lounge room. A huge groan followed seconds later. “Who made this mess?!” he screeched.

It was like a vodka bomb had gone off, the scent of the burning liquid hung heavily in the cool morning air, shot glasses and bottles strewn across the floor and on the sofa. Blankets and throw pillows had also joined the mess on the floor, along with a great many records from their collection.

“Looks like someone wanted some music, too,” Brian said, pointing at the jumble of vinyls.

Freddie gasped. “But the order! It’s all ruined!”

“Fred, I think it was _you_ who wanted to dance last night,” Brian pointed out, laughing at the memory of the drunk Persian boy leaping up to find the ‘perfect dance track’ and ripping out almost every record he owned on his mission.

The singer just huffed loudly before stomping off to his room, closing the door so quietly Brian could tell he wanted to slam it.  

“Guess I’m cleaning up then,” Brian mumbled to himself.

It was almost noon by the time the tall man had finished cleaning up the disgraceful sitting room and kitchen. The smell of liquor had been carefully masked by the lovely lemon cleaning spray Brian had to use to scrub spilt rum out of the carpet. The records and lounge décor had been returned to their rightful places, and the empty bottles had been disposed of accordingly. If they continued recording at that pace, Freddie’s liquor collection would soon be gone. Dear Freddie was nowhere to be seen, probably trying to sleep off his hangover a bit more, as were the other two boys.

Making a cup of tea and seating himself on the now clean couch with a lovely astrophysics book, Brian sighed. He couldn’t help but think about everything that had happened since the band started getting big. After the release of Sheer Heart Attack, they all just went into a sort of shut down. The album blew up, reaching number two in British charts, selling thousands of albums and finally putting them on the musical map. But it was so horrible to record. An unclean needle brought hepatitis on Brian, followed by an ulcer making the recording of his guitar sections impossible. He shuddered, remembering that horrific illness, those months of recovery, the disappointment of millions when he had to cut the Queen II tour short. And after everything, after the hundreds of hours the band enslaved to making that album, they barely got a single cent. The record label sucked it all up, despite how much effort the band went put in to creating the masterpiece. Norman Sheffield was the cause of that.

Money was one of the biggest problems they faced. Scraping together rent for their two bedroom flat every month was bad enough, and most of their delicacies were gifted. The bottles of vodka and such were all presents from one pub or another after a gig. They had to make cutbacks. Showers were short, supermarket brand items were the only ones making their way into the trolley. The managers told Roger to not drum too hard because they didn’t even have enough money to replace the sticks.

Deciding not to dwell on these pressing matters, Brian grabbed two glasses of water and some Advil and ventured into Freddie and John’s bedroom.

“Thank you darling,” Freddie whispered, sitting up and gesturing to the sleeping John. “I have a feeling he’s going to need it.”

Roger was still sleeping when Brian entered their room. He had tangled himself in the sheets, kicking the comforter onto the floor. Brian swiftly lay it back over him, knowing how cold he would be if he woke up like that. Placing the water and pills on the nightstand very gently as to not wake the sleeping beauty, Brian thanked his lucky stars that Roger was his friend, maybe not in the exact way Brian wanted, but he thanked them anyway.

He had fallen for the impossible man. Roger, who could get any pretty girl he wanted, Roger who was most certainly straight. But also Roger, who could stop Brian’s heart beating with a single look, Roger who freely expressed his soft, gentle side when among friends.

Maybe questions about sexuality didn’t matter. Maybe Freddie was right, maybe he did need to do something about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments mean the world!


	3. Hangovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who has read/commented on this fic, it honestly warms my heart so much

It was the aching of his head that woke Roger up. It was like an army of trolls had set to work mining his skull. That, and the light streaming in through the partially drawn curtains. Brian’s been in.

The curly haired blessing had also left a glass of water and some Advil on his bedside table. Popping the pills quickly to try to relive his headache, Roger crept out into the living room, blanket drawn tightly around his small form.

Freddie was softly playing the piano when Roger slunk in, but to him it felt like he was front row seat to the loudest orchestra in the world.

“Ack, Freddie, shut up!” The blond boy complained. “Some of us have headaches.”

“I can second that,” John said from his spot curled up on the old armchair. “How come you don’t have a hangover, Fred?”

The singer smiled. “I did what I was told, I went straight to bed.”

“So did I!”

“No, you stayed up telling me all about the new song you were going to write, all about spreading your legs and flying away.”

John went scarlet. “Did it sound good?” He asked quietly.

“Given the fact that you can’t sing,” Freddie started with a chuckle. “Not really. And we don’t need any more kinky songs on this album. Roger’s got us covered.”

Roger angrily grumbled his ‘fuck you’ and slunk off into the kitchen to find first, sustenance, and second, that tall beanstalk man.

 

“Morning, sunshine. Or should I say afternoon,” Brian said from his seat at the breakfast bar.

“Shut up,” Roger mumbled, snatching the mug of tea Brian was cradling.

“So,” The older man started. “How hungover are you?”

Roger grimaced, resting his pounding head in his hands. “My head is thumping, and has it always been this bright in here?”

Brian nodded. “At least you didn’t throw up.”

Roger looked pointedly at Brian. “That’s where you’d be wrong. Yeah, I lost most of last night’s dinner at about 4:00 am this morning.”

“Oh, Rog. How come I didn’t wake up? How come _you_ didn’t wake me up?”

“Bri, I’ve been drinking to the point of vomiting for _years_ , you know I can barely hold my drink,” Roger said, sipping the tea. “I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful.”

Brian frowned, ordering Roger to eat some breakfast (Brunch?) and drink another glass of water.

“Studio’s tomorrow so I’ll allow you to be hungover today, and today only. Oh, and don’t forget to pack.”

Tomorrow they would all take the three hour dive up to Monmouth, to return to Rockfield farm for a few weeks of recording. The farm itself was huge, with a grand farmhouse and wonderful studio. It was like a country palace, as Freddie had so eloquently put it last time they were there during the recoding of _Sheer Heart Attack_. Going up to Wales meant getting away from all distractions and getting some real work done, but Brian’s distraction was almost always attached to his hip.

“Will you help me?” The attached hip asked, staring at him with those beautiful droopy baby blue eyes. Brian simply melted. If either of the other two had asked for his expert help with a simple task, he would have told them to piss off, but not to Roger.

“Yes, Rog. I’ll help you pack,” Brian said, pretending to be exasperated and rolled his eyes dramatically.

It was so relaxing, to have Brian help him pack. Of course, he could have just done it on his own, but having someone to talk to was so comforting. Brian would go on about the songs he was writing, or about the stars. Roger had learnt a lot, just by being friends with this gentle giant.

He could feel something blossoming. Like a blooming flower on a dusky spring morning. Their relationship was growing, they were becoming closer.

Stuffing a few more pairs of impossibly tight flared pants into the bag, he finally squeezed it shut.

“You’d think we were going away for a year,” Brian joked as he helped the blond squish everything in.

“I’ve got to have options, Bri! I wouldn’t dare repeat an outfit.”

 

The rest of the afternoon was spent on the couch, listening to records and watching boring daytime tv. John was braiding Freddie’s long chocolate hair, plaiting the silky strands in an intricate pattern down his back. Still recovering from the night before, Roger was watching the television peacefully, nestled into Brian’s side. His blond hair splayed out across his face and onto Brian’s chest in a beautiful gold halo.

They had always been physically close, even right back when Smile formed, within a few hours the small blond drummer was all over the tall man, touching his hair and playing with his long fingers. Cuddling was not a new thing. Roger was almost always freezing, especially in winter, so he constantly used Brian as his own personal heat pack. They would curl up on the sofa together, read books together, hug, friendly stuff. Closeness wasn’t an issue.

It was like they came in pairs, matching sets that fit so perfectly together. Without John, Freddie would surely be dead by now, and without Brian, Roger would be very much the same.

They all needed each other. They were the family Roger never had, they gave him the love he deserved, not the love he would have to earn. These were the people he truly felt comfortable with, he was exactly where he was meant to be. Maybe not as the semi-famous, poor drummer from a broken home, but he had found his place. And it very much was here, squashed into the corner of the couch sandwiched in next to Brian, with John sat next to him and Freddie on the floor, watching shit day-time tv, perfectly content to just sit in each other’s presence.

He was never meant to be a dentist, or a second-rate biology teacher. _This_ was who he would be.

They had their fair share of arguments, over who’s turn it was to wash the dishes or who made the mess on the kitchen table. Roger was fiery tempered, whoever accused him of doing something would be challenged to a fight, Freddie was the drama queen and John was the mediator, defusing tension and saving people from black eyes. Brian, on the other hand, would usually just give in and do the task himself.

It was the only way they could function, rubbing each other up the wrong way, poking fun, arguing, without that they would fall into a huge mess.

A deep sense of peace washed over Roger, he sunk into Brian’s side a little more. He let himself float away into dreamland, knowing that he was finally in the right place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter, next we will have the boys at rockfield farm! I know setting this story during the recording of A Night at the Opera is a little boring, but I really liked the time period in terms of fashion and their music, so I hope you don't mind.


	4. Rockfield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone liked that last chapter, it has been a joy to write and update this fic, I am having such a fantastic time! Please leave any feedback/requests if you'd like x

Their morning had gone as expected. Freddie was running around like a headless chicken trying to gather all his last minute ‘must haves’, John was calmly tetras-ing everything into the boot of the car and Roger was lazily lying on the couch, basking in the pale, autumn morning sun.

Once everything had been crammed into the car, they could at last be on their way. Roger laughed hysterically as he watched the other three boys try desperately to fight for the front seat. They pushed and shoved, swearing and pulling hair until Roger told them all to fuck off and let Brian have the seat. He claimed it was because he had the longest legs and took up the most room, but it was really only because Roger felt safer driving with Brian next to him.

“Thank you, Rog. Finally, someone gets it,” The curly haired boy said, slipping into the passenger seat.

Freddie had a face of thunder, mocking Brian’s voice as he begrudgingly crammed himself into the back seat next to John. “Well I like John the best so I’m glad I don’t have to talk to you two the whole trip,” He quipped.

The others chuckled at Freddie’s pettiness, buckling in and finally pulling out of the apartment parking lot.

On a whole, the long dive was very relaxing. The four whittled the time away by performing their favourite songs that came on the radio and talking about whatever antics were going on in their lives. About two hours in Roger pulled up to a gas station, giving in to Freddie’s constant whining about how hungry he was.

When the singer emerged from the little shop some ten minutes later, he and John were both cradling large shopping bags.

“You know there is food at Rockfield?” Brian said, laughing as the boys spilled the content of the bags onto the back-middle seat. Crisps, cakes, sodas and candy were all to be seen.

“Geez!” Brian exclaimed, seeing the massive amount of sugary – could one even call it food? “Did you guys get any _real_ food?”

John blushed, producing one plastic box of salad sandwiches and handed them to the disappointed-looking man. “Just for you!” He said, smiling weakly.

 

The Rockfield farmhouse was as beautiful as ever. Built in the late 30s, is was two stories tall with a loft up in the roof. It was clad with beautiful red paling and sat right next to a barn that once housed cattle ready for milking. Chickens ran freely in the yard and sheep lived in a paddock nearby.

Freddie gleefully ran inside, glad to stretch his legs after the agonising three-hour drive in the squashy back seat. Roger was hot on his trail, leaving the two guitar wielding members to bring in the bags.

Once all the bags had been dumped in the hall, they sat down at the large kitchen bench. Freddie produced a tattered piece of paper which he claimed was their schedule.

“Right,” The singer started. “Let’s get this out of the way then.”

“Get what out of the way?” Roger questioned.

Freddie looked him dead in the eye and said, “Your car song, darling.”

Roger stood up quickly. “What are you saying about it, Fred?” He said angrily. “It’s good!”

“Come on Rog,” John said condescendingly. “‘With my hand on your grease gun?’”

“It’s a metaphor!” Roger yelled. “What about your line then? ‘Happy at home?’ That’s not very rock and roll is it? What are we, the Women’s Institute?!”

Brian stood up, gently pushing Roger back from John a little. “Take it easy, this isn’t battle of the lyrics. Both songs are great, okay? Let’s just record the bloody thing.”

“You know what?” Roger said, fuming. “You will put it on the B-side of the single.”

Freddie scoffed. “In your dreams, gorgeous.”

“I’m not joking. I worked so hard on it, and you don’t like it because you only want your songs on the album!”

The flamboyant singer shook his head and crossed his arms. “I will not allow your fucking car song ruin my masterpiece.”

By masterpiece, he was referring to his not yet recorded rock oriented operatic song that was yet to have a name.

“I don’t care, its going on the B-side!” Roger yelled.

“Never in a _million_ years, Rog.”

The blond menace huffed loudly before turning on his heels and storming out of the kitchen.

“It’s a miracle he even convinced us to put it on the record,” John said to Freddie, pouring himself a cup of tea.

“And that’s as far as it’s getting!” Freddie exclaimed. “The B-side! How stupid does he think I am?”

Brian sighed. “I guess I’m going to be the one who has to calm him down?”

“Yep,” Freddie said, turning away and taking the spiral staircase to his bedroom.

After a long swig of tea, Brian swung open the hall door to find that blond fiend.

“Rog?” he called. “It’s just a song! Don’t worry about what Fred thinks!” There was a tiny noise of indignation coming from the end of the seemingly empty hall.

Brian stopped short in front of the large cupboard and tried the door, before returning his hands to hips. “Roger Meddows Taylor. Please tell me you have not just locked yourself in this cupboard.”

“I’m not coming out until Freddie agrees to put my song on the B-side.”

The curly haired man ran his long fingers through his black hair, exhaling deeply. “Really? Come on, Rog.”

“Nope.”

“For fucks sake,” Brian grumbled, rubbing his forehead. “Freddie!”

The next half hour was agonising and extremally funny at the same time. Watching Freddie plead with a cupboard was certainly something else. Even the bribe of a full vocal solo on Freddie’s next track could not lure Roger out. The singer begged, shouted and threatened, but nothing could entice him into exiting the damned wardrobe. It was only when Freddie, defeated, uttered those dreaded seven words. “Okay, fine, it’s on the fucking B-side.”

With a swift click, Roger flung himself out of the cupboard and into Freddie’s arms.

With a disgusted look, Freddie tore him off. “Piss off, you bitch.”

Roger grinned even wider. “Blondie wins again!”

And with that, he scuttled upstairs before Freddie could get his hands on him properly.

 


	5. Bed Sheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm quite nervous to post this chapter...there is a bit of a smut warning for this one, its my first time ever writing smut so i'm sorry if it's terrible! I do hope you enjoy none the less xx

After their little altercation regarding where _I’m In Love with My Car_ was going to go on their upcoming album, the actual recording went quite well. It was such a privilege to watch Roger sing with such passion, even if it was just about a car. He cared about it, and that was all that mattered to Brian.

The guitar parts were very fun to record, then they all messed about with the backing vocals, much to the amusement of the drummer.

But there was something burning in the back of Brian’s mind. His desire to just caress the blond boy’s pale cheek, kiss his impossibly soft lips. He so desperately wanted to be with him, it hurt. He needed to confess. Badly.

 

Once everything but the drums had been recorded for Roger’s song, they decided to call it a day. The sun had set long ago, despite it being only early evening. Freddie had lit at least a dozen candles and scattered them around the living room, for a ‘dramatic effect’.

“So,” John said, clapping his hands together. “Anyone want to go to the pub? I feel like getting shitfaced.”

Roger grimaced. “No way Deaky. I’m never drinking again.”

“Yeah, not tonight, Deaks.”

“I’ll come with you dear, let’s leave these boring people here and enjoy our night,” Freddie said, still a little angry with Roger.

 

“Goodbye, my loves, don’t get too rowdy while we are gone!” The singer shouted as John pulled him out the door before he could make even more embarrassment.

“So,” Roger said, “Want to watch a movie?”

Okay, this was it, this was the moment Brian needed.

“Rog? Can I talk to you? I need to confess something.”

Silence. Brian drew in a deep breath as the atmosphere shifted. He could almost taste the tension in the room. It was like all the air had been sucked out.

Then, something incredible happened.

“I think I have a feeling of what you’re about to say,” The blue-eyed beauty whispered suddenly. “And I really hope I’m right, because I could ruin everything with what _I’m_ about to say.”

Brian was caught fully off guard. This was completely unexpected. He thought he would just have to pluck up the courage and spill his heart out.

Roger took a deep breath. “Brian, I think I’m in love with you.”

Silence. Brian’s world imploded, time stopped for a second. His neurons were firing so rapidly it took him several seconds to register wat he had just said. _He thinks he’s in love with you._ It would be a miracle if Roger couldn’t hear Brian’s heart beating out of his chest. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Roger Taylor thinks he’s in love with you. “Think?”

“No, I know I am. I love you, more than I love my car,” He added weakly, staring at the ground, unsure if everything had been ruined. “I’m so sorry Brian. I’ve messed everything up.”

Large soft hands gently grasped Roger’s shoulders, making him look into those dark brown eyes.

“Roger, I love you too,” Brian whispered. A weight had been lifted, the sky had cleared. He was feeling pure ecstasy right down to his very bones. “You haven’t messed anything up. _I love you_.”

“Really?”

“Yes, with all my heart, that is what I was going to tell you before,” Brian said, enveloping the smaller boy into a huge hug, gently kissing the top of his blond hair.

Roger looked up, the light hung around Brian’s head, like that of an angel. He reached up, weaving his hands into those soft curls, standing on his toes, he finally placed a kiss on Brian’s pink lips.

It was heavenly. The stars had aligned. They were finally one.

They kissed hungrily, making up for so much lost time. Roger’s lips trailed down Brian’s jaw, eliciting delicious moans from the guitarist’s dirty mouth.

Breaking apart only because he couldn’t breathe, the tall man grinned. Finally, it had happened. After months, no, _years_ , of pining, they finally pulled their heads out of their asses and kissed. It was honestly the best kiss Brian had ever had. Roger’s lips were so perfect, so soft and supple.

_Much like his arse,_ Brian thought, grabbing it gently, giving it a light squeeze.

“I want you Brian. I need you,” Roger whispered breathily, before resuming their searing kiss. The blond’s nimble fingers swiftly began unbuttoning Brian’s white shirt.

“What do you want, darling?” Brian said in Roger’s ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“ _You_ ,” The drummer said hungrily. “In me.”

Brian blushed. Maybe this was all just a dream, surely all his fantasies hadn’t been answered in just one night?

“Unless you don’t want to?”

Brian shook his head quickly, smiling. “Of course I do, I’ve wanted to for a very long time.”

Roger grinned back, ripping off his own shirt.

“Don’t know if I really want Fred finding us naked in the lounge when he comes back,” Brian said, swiftly hooking Roger’s legs around his waist, picking him up and carrying him to the bedroom, kissing him hard.

Setting Roger down gently on the bed, Brian could already feel his raging boner straining against his boxers, both boys’ pants laying discarded on the floor.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he flicked his blond hair out of his face. “I want you to fuck me, Brian May.”

He leant down to kiss the naughty drummer again, kneading the warm flesh of his ass, pressing their boners together.

“Please Brian,” Roger moaned.

Slowly, Brian slipped Roger’s boxers off, exposing his already hard cock. _Oh lord_ , this was amazing. Roger’s naked body was so beautiful. Light danced on his pale skin, and it was _so soft_. He looked like an angel lying there, at the hands of the tall man. Gently, Brian circled the head of Roger’s dick with his thumb, already leaking with pre-come. Roger sucked in a breath as the older man took his cock into his skilled mouth, sucking ever so gently. He moaned in pleasure, tingles racing up his spine.

“I need you Brian!” Roger screamed, gripping the bedsheets in pleasure. Brian grinned, seeing the power he held over this blue-eyed god before him.

“Just making sure you really want it, darling,” Brian said in a low voice, making Roger harder than ever. “I think you do.”

Flipping the small man over gently, Brian’s dick skyrocketed. He had imagined this exact situation thousands of times, often while doing unspeakable things, but never once had he thought he would actually get to _do_ it.

Brian carefully coated his fingers in the lube he had fished out of his bedside draw. He needed to do this properly, it had to be special.

Roger let out the most beautiful noise as Brian slipped a finger in to his tight hole. Stretching it gently, Roger withered under his hands as he grazed his sweet spot.

“ _Please_ , Brian, more,” He begged.

One more finger, Brian danced around the hole, making sure it was loose enough.

“Are you ready to take me?”

Roger let out a high moan as Brian curled his long fingers inside him. “Yes, Bri! Fuck me now!”

“Bit demanding, aren’t we?” Brian said in a low voice, removing his fingers and swatting that pale ass, drinking in the delicious groan of pleasure that escaped the blond man’s lips.

Brian tossed his boxers aside, his length already rock hard. Coating himself sufficiently with the slick lubricant, he lined himself up swiftly, he gently pressed his dick against the hole. He pushed harder, Roger screamed in pleasure.

He passed the tight ring of muscle, seeing white as he finally hit Roger’s sweet spot.

“Harder!” Roger screamed, gripping the bed sheets tightly.

Slowly, Brian started thrusting, pulling his cock out almost completely, before pushing it back in. He could tell Roger was close, and so was he. It only took a few hard thrusts to bring them both to the edge.

“ _Come on Brian!_ ” Roger screeched, feeling his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach.

The feeling of being filled up by the man he loved sent him into heaven. Thick ropes of come spurted out of his rock-hard cock, jamming his eyes shut, he saw the gates of heaven themselves.

_Finally_.

They had finally done it.

Brian gently removed himself from his lover, flopping down on the bed next to him, royally fucked out.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” Roger breathed, slowly coming down from his amazing orgasm.

Brian grinned, breathing heavily. “Glad you liked it.”

They lay there for a few minutes, until Brian got up and picked a shirt up off the floor and cleaned them both up. “Honestly, Brian, thank you.”

The curly haired man’s heart swelled. “I am so glad we did that.”

“Me too.”

After they had both sufficiently cleaned themselves up (And dealt with the bed sheets) and put on a few more clothes, they settled down together on the couch to watch a movie.

“Do you think we are going too fast?” Roger said very quietly, an anxious look on his perfect face.

“What makes you say that darling?”

The blond boy played with Brian’s fingers. “We just had sex.”

“Roger, I’ve known you for years. For all those years, we acted like a married couple. Now we’ve finally confessed our feelings. After _years_ of pining,” He added. “I _love_ you,” Brian paused for a second. “And this will always be more than just sex.”

The small boy looked visibly more relaxed, it only took a few words to calm him down. “I love you too, Bri. I was just worried that maybe you didn’t want things to move so fast.”

“You said yourself that that was the best sex you’ve ever had.”

Roger giggled, kissing Brian on the neck, snugging closer into his chest.

They fell asleep like that, snuggled tightly into each other, protected from the world, simply at peace with each other. They were connected.

 

When Freddie and John finally returned from the pub during the very small hours of the morning, they noticed the boys on the couch. Of course, they had seen them cuddling before, but this was different, they were just that bit closer.

“Finally,” Freddie whispered in John’s ear. “They got their shit together and fucked.”

John giggled. “We should leave them alone more often.”

 

____

 

The sight that met Brian’s eyes the next morning was the most beautiful thing in the world. Lying on his back and looking down, he could see perfect little Roger lying on his chest, head to one side, mouth slightly open. Roger’s back rose and fell softly, in such a calming rhythm. His skin was smooth and warm under Brian’s big hands. His long blond hair spread out across his back, and when the early morning light hit it, it sparkled like a million diamonds.

Slowly the older man begun to trace patterns on the drummer’s back. Stars and planets, he drew the whole galaxy on his soft skin. With fluttering eyes, he woke up gently. He smiled softly, closing them again.

“Morning sunshine,” Brian whispered into Roger’s hair, placing delicate kisses on the blond mane.

“Morning…” he trailed off with a yawn.

Carefully, Brian sat up, still with Roger pressed to his chest like a baby. Roger slung his arms around Brian’s neck, legs around his waist and kissed him tenderly. They sat there for a while, lazily making out and cuddling. It was pure bliss.

Until Freddie and John walked in.

“Oh! I see!” Freddie exclaimed loudly, making the couple break apart suddenly. “Finally shagging? I’m so glad!”

“Yeah,” John chipped in. “Took you damn well long enough!”

Roger giggled softly, turning in Brian’s lap. “Oh, piss off you two,” He said playfully. Brian’s face had gone a lovely shade of scarlet, much to the singer’s amusement.

“I was getting so sick of your silly pining, Brian. Glad to hear you finally grew a pair of balls and told him.”

“I was going to,” Brian piped up finally. “But he bet me to it.”

“Ha!” Freddie screeched, pointing at the guitarists face. “I told you!”

Roger looked confused. “Wait, so you’ve known about his feelings for exactly how long?”

“About three years, Rog,” John said, chuckling, bringing in a steaming pot of tea and some mugs.

Brian buried his face in his palms. “I’m sorry for being such a coward.”

The blond boy lay his head softly on Brian’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m just glad we finally did it.”

“Did it? Did _what_?” Freddie said, cackling.

Brian shook his head, refusing to answer the singer’s embarrassing question. “I’m sure Rog can fill you in,” He said with a chuckle. “But I’m going to take a shower.”

“Can I join you?” Roger asked, making a joke but also being completely serious at the same time.

Freddie and John simply fell onto each other, hooting with laughter.

Even though Brian knew it would be just fine, it was so comforting to know that his friends accepted their new relationship with open arms. Finally, he was home.

 

From then on, everything was normal. But, oh, it was so much richer. The puzzle was complete. Finally, Brian and Roger had stopped tip-toeing around their feelings.

It made Freddie’s heart swell to see them holding hands or exchanging small kisses. It even helped the recording of the album, they were racing through. The changes the couple made, especially to each other’s songs, were amazing and really made them incredible.

Those next few weeks of recording at Rockfield were magnificent. It had become their second home for the month. They had each imparted a bit of themselves on the old building. Brian had rearranged the kitchen to his liking, Freddie had even brought a new rug for the hall because he didn’t like the previous one. Roger and John had both redone their bedrooms, Roger has put his back to how he found it (Because he had moved himself into Brian’s bigger room, with the bigger bed), and John went all out with moving furniture and artwork to suit his taste.

The very last week at the farm was the best. Most of the weeks before were spent recording small parts of songs, when the atmosphere felt most right for that particular song, the notes flew. Finally, Freddie felt it was the right time to start recording his song. His masterpiece, he liked to call it. It didn’t even have a name, but they had all read it, and heard Freddie play it on the piano, that they just knew it would be a hit.

He would give them a scrap of music to pump out, stop, listen carefully and send them back in to do it again. It took hours for Roger to get the drums right to Freddie’s tedious taste, same went for Brian’s guitar solo and rhythmics.

The singer often stayed in the little recording booth late into the night, playing and re-playing the parts with his poor engineer.

It was so wonderful to watch him work, and especially incredible to hear him sing. His voice was so rich, so warm and full of emotion. You could literally see him pour his heart and soul into the mic. Yes, this would definitely be a hit.

And then came the operatic section.

It was the most fun section they had recorded by far. Roger spent a good hour belting out ‘Galileo’ in such a high pitch, it felt like the glass of the recording booth would actually shatter.

“Higher,” Freddie said.

“Any higher and only dogs will hear me!”

 “Try.”

And try he did, finally reaching a pitch surely not humanly possible for such a small man. It was beautiful; melodic, sweet, strong and gentle at the same time.

They had created a musical mastery, together pooling their strengths, their souls, to create the best album ever made, all at that little farm. 

It was quite emotional to go home, actually.

“I’m going to miss this place,” Freddie said as John locked the big red door behind them. A quiet murmur or agreement went around the group. Despite having a wonderful time, they were all tired. Roger especially, the recording routine had been particularly hard on him. He even let Brian drive home, as his eyelids kept slipping shut every few seconds, tiredness closing in on his small form.

“Anyone need to pee?” Brian said softly as he pulled in to a petrol station a few hours later. Freddie and John shook their heads, looking over to Roger in the passenger seat.

“Bless him,” Freddie whispered, going soft. The blond menace had curled up in his seat, head gently resting on the window, fast asleep. Swiftly, the raven-haired singer whipped out his camera to snap a picture of the sleeping beauty.

They all had a bit of a collective smile and coo at the sweet sight before them. It was these soft moments that Brian would treasure forever. That past month was probably the best month of his life. So much had changed, and so much was still changing. Watching his relationship with the drummer grow and flourish was what could only be described as pure heaven. God knows what he would have done if it had never happened.

Little did he know about how much his life was _really_ about to change.


	6. Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you everyone for reading this, I absolutely love posting! I am still nervous about the last one so please tell me your thoughts!  
> There is a little emetophobe warning before this one...

Waking up next to the blond devil was heaven on earth. The first week back from their little recording session was blissful. Aside from the mid-blowing sex, day to day life was just _better_. Brian was allowed to touch Roger whenever he pleased. He was allowed to hold his hand, to kiss his perfect pink lips. He was even allowed to fuck him senseless if he wanted to, which he did most of the time.

If they didn’t go for round two in the morning and Roger was still asleep, Brian would creep away to make him breakfast, even though the likelihood of him actually eating it was pretty slim.

 

Steam rose warmly from the cup of tea Brian placed on their bedside table. He bent down over Roger’s curled form, kissing him on the cheek gently. His blue eyes fluttered open, but something was off. His skin felt clammy under Brian’s hands and lips.

“Morning, my love,” Brian whispered to Roger, who had closed his eyes again. “Are you feeling alright?”

Roger rolled over to face the older man and groaned. He mumbled something into the pillows.

“Huh?”

“I feel sick, Bri.”

Instantly, Brian went into comforting mum mode. “Oh, my love…” He whispered, scooting back into bed and pulling Roger into his side. “What kind of sick?” he inquired softly, feeling the drummer’s temperature.

“I feel nauseous…”

“Do you think you are actually going to be sick?”

Roger frowned. “I don’t know!” He said, a slight note of annoyance mixed with panic in his voice.

“It’s okay, I’ll get you some water and something for your stomach,” Brian said gently, getting out of bed and tucking the covers back around Roger before exiting the room.

 

A sleepy Freddie wandered into the light kitchen just as Brian was filling a water bottle.

“Morning Bri. Where’s Rog?”

The tall man frowned, heart clenching. “He’s sick,” Brian replied, screwing the lid of the bottle on tight.

A cloud of worry furrowed the singer’s brow, he had always had a soft spot for their little drummer. “Sick? The poor thing!”

“Says he feels nauseous.”

“The flu?”

“I think,” Brian replied, thinking of how stupid they were to miss the vaccine.

“I’ll make some tea for him, you go see if he’s alright,” Freddie said, switching to nurse.

Brian nodded, and headed back to their bedroom.

“Come on darling,” Brian said softly to the heap of blankets on the bed. “Get up so you can change out of those sweaty clothes.”

It felt horrible for poor Roger. He felt as if he could just empty the contents of his stomach at any moment, it was terribly disconcerting. Doing as he was told, he uncurled himself from the jumble of quilts and slowly stood up, swaying slightly.

Brian gently lifted Roger’s shirt over his head with the lightest fingers. Slipping a new one on, Brian enveloped Roger into a warm hug.

“Get some rest, my love. You’ll feel better soon,” Brian whispered into his boyfriend’s blond hair.

Roger was just about to nestle further into Brian’s shoulder and beg him to stay with him all day, when the worst feeling possible crashed over him. He was going to be sick.

Pushing the guitarist away roughly, Roger ran out of the room, thanking the heavens that the bathroom door was open. He made it just in time to fall to his knees and throw up last night’s dinner. His muscles began to ache from the tension and strain of vomiting, his knuckles were white against the toilet seat he was grasping so desperately.

Brian was by his side in a flash, holding back his hair and rubbing his back.

“Oh Rog, my poor darling,” Brian whispered.

Roger shakily got up and flushed the toilet. Gladly accepting the glass of water the black-haired man offered, he sat down on the bathroom floor, back against the cool tiles. Brian slid down the wall next to him, drawing soothing patterns on his thigh, looking at him with concerned eyes.

“Sorry,” Roger said, barely audible.

Brian pulled one of his pale hands into his lap, rubbing it gently. “You have nothing to be sorry for, my love. Do you feel better?”

“No,” Roger said, tears threatening to spill out of his gorgeous blue eyes. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Brian whispered. “Please don’t cry!” he reached up and wiped away a tear that had escaped the drummer’s eye, before pulling him into his side. “I’ll get you some medicine. It’s probably just a bug. But you can’t sit in here forever, darling.”

Hauling Roger up, an arm around his waist, they walked slowly back to their bedroom. The effort of throwing up had completely drained the small boy, and he was ready to sleep for a hundred years if it wasn’t for the horrible feeling of nausea still burying itself into his very bones. Brian tucked the sick boy in, making sure he was comfortable before venturing back into the kitchen to face a very worried looking Freddie, and a concerned John.

“Is he alright, darling?”

“Um,” Brian started. “Not really, I reckon you heard him?”

“Throwing up? Yeah, it’s not exactly a very pleasant noise,” John said blandly.

 “I don’t know what’s wrong with him!” Brian said pleadingly. He absolutely hated seeing his boyfriend in any discomfort, especially when he could do nothing to stop it.

“Look,” John started, “I’ll go to the chemist and get something to help with the nausea, and if it doesn’t clear up in a few days, we’ll take him to the doctor.”

Brian smiled gratefully. At some point in their small exchange, Freddie had left the room, only to return with a bucket.

“I’d rather you didn’t have to clean up vomit off the floor, dear.”

“Thanks Fred,” Brian said, grabbing the bucket and turning to leave.

“I’ll go with John, you make sure Rog is okay,” Freddie said, as they both pulled on their coats.

 

Setting the bucket on the floor near Roger’s head, Brian slipped in under the covers next to him. He pulled the blond boy closer, but giving him enough space if he needed to get up again.

“I’m so sorry you feel like this, Rog,” Brian whispered into his hair. “Is there anything you want me to do?”

Roger was silent for a moment, tracing circles into Brian’s hands that were around his waist. “Sing to me?”

A warm feeling closed its hand around the tall man’s heart. Gladly, he quietly began to sing his new song;

_Don't you hear my call though you're many years away_

_Don't you hear me calling you_

_Write your letters in the sand_

_For the day I take your hand_

_In the land that our grandchildren knew_

Slowly, ignoring the feeling in his stomach, Roger drifted off to sleep, encapsulated in Brian’s soft voice.

 

______

__

It was only a matter of hours before Roger threw up again. Brian was sitting up in their bed next to him, one hand lazily combing through his boyfriend’s soft hair, the other holding up a book on astrophysics. He could feel Roger stirring under his hand, then he rolled over and pushed himself up on his elbows.

“Roger…” Brian whispered softly. The blond boy groaned loudly, clutching his stomach. “Rog! Oh, honey…” Brian quickly pulled Roger’s hair back as he leaned over the edge of the bed, emptying the contents of his already pretty empty stomach into the bucket. Once he’d finished, he slumped back onto the pillows and wiped his mouth. Taking a long sip of the water bottle guided into his mouth, he let out another groan.

“Brian…” he moaned pitifully. Instantly, Brian was up out of the bed and kneeling by his side, pushing Roger’s hair behind his ears and stroking his cheek.

“It’s okay darling,” He said soothingly. “I’ll get rid of this and see what the boys got for you.”

Roger closed his eyes, feeling a thumping in his head. It felt like a horrific hangover, but ten times worse. He hadn’t even drunk a single drop of alcohol for weeks! And cigarettes didn’t taste any good anymore. He just couldn’t put his finger on what was bothering his insides so much.

 

“Darling,” Freddie said to Brian as he entered the living room. “All they had was some bullshit herbal remedies, this ginger crap.”

The singer pushed a box of ginger teabag looking things across the coffee table with his foot.

“It says ginger calms nausea, and we didn’t want to come back empty handed.” John added.

Brian grimaced. “Look, I’ll try anything, just as long as it makes him feel better.” He strode into the kitchen and made up the ginger tea, it smelt awful, but he just prayed it would work.

The tea worked miracles actually, an hour after consuming the brown liquid, Roger was up out of bed and making mischief again, completely back to his normal self.

“Are you sure you are feeling better?” Brian asked, still concerned that it could be the flu.

Roger sighed and grabbed Brian’s hands. “ _Yes_ ,” he said. “I don’t feel sick, just a bit tired.”

The tall man frowned. “Maybe you should take a nap?” He suggested.

Roger groaned. “I’m fine! I swear, you’re acting like my mum.”

“I just don’t want you to get sick, especially since we have to be at the studio every day this week.”

Roger just pushed him off, claiming he was fully better, before scuttling off to find Freddie to play scrabble. Brian had firmly declined the game offer, remembering last time when Roger had sent the tiles flying across the living room floor when denied the word ‘Scrob’.

When dinner time rolled around, Freddie and Roger were still playing Scrabble, at some point they had managed to rope John in to the heated game. Stomach rumbling, Brian was left to make the dinner, as usual. To be honest, he did not trust Roger or Freddie near his precious kitchen, maybe John, but not those two devils. Neither of them even knew how to boil water without an electric kettle.

Brian allowed the three boys to eat on the floor so they could continue their game. It was kind of relaxing just to watch them interact. And funny, Roger could so easily be riled up, and Freddie was such a diva. Brian sat on the sofa and watched John awkwardly place down his tiles while the other two argued over whether ‘mong’ was a word. Sensing tension building thick in the air, he decided to creep away to his room before a fight could break out by his feet. Just as well, for only a matter of a few minutes later, the sound of a very angry Roger and little letter squares hitting the hard wood floor reached his ears. Seconds after that, Roger himself stomped into the bedroom and flung himself on the foot of their bed where Brian was lying.

“Freddie is such a cheat!”

Brian sighed. “Whatever you say, honey. I’m just glad you’re back to your normal self.”

 

When Roger woke the next morning, he was so tired. _Dead_ tired. It was like he only got eight non-consecutive minutes of sleep despite getting a solid seven hours. Rolling over, he found Brian upright and reading a book in the pale autumn morning light. Whispering his good morning, Brian lent down and kissed Roger’s parted lips softly. Putting the book on the nightstand, he got up and dressed quickly in a white button up shirt and a pair of deliciously tight black flares. The view Roger was getting from the bed was simply _divine_. After opening the curtains fully, the curly haired man announced he was going to make breakfast, promising pancakes a way of luring the drummer out of bed. Truth be told, Roger felt like he could sleep for the next seventeen years. But he was hungry and really had to pee.

After relieving his bladder, he joined the boys in the kitchen.

“Ah, look who finally decided to join us,” Freddie said as Roger pulled a face at him. “And you’re still in your pajamas! Disgraceful!”

John laughed. “We’ve got a big day ahead Rog!”

Roger groaned. “Not more studio! I swear that’s all we do!”

“It _is_ our job, Rog,” Brian said, setting a huge stack of pancakes on the breakfast bar.

“But I’m so tired!”

“Then go to bed earlier.”

Roger sighed angrily, defeated, and took a pancake off the stack. Earning a scolding from John, he ate it quickly with his hands.

Once everyone was fed and Brian had managed to coax his boyfriend into getting dressed into something more socially acceptable than impossibly short shorts and one of Brian’s huge shirts, they finally arrived at the studio. Not wanting to waste any time, Freddie quickly sent them to their instruments and they set to work.

“Okay, my darlings,” Freddie said loudly. “Let’s start with our lovely little song dedicated to that ass-hole Norman Sheffield.” Roger snorted loudly, recalling the song instantly, ‘Death on Two Legs’ as Freddie had rightfully named it. The song had a very unique sound, with an interesting electric guitar line tied in with a heavy bass riff and strong drum beat, that Roger, for the life of him, just couldn’t get right.

“Roger, darling, please listen to me!” Freddie said from the recording booth, clearly exasperated.

“I am listening!” He shouted back, anger bubbling up inside of him. It wasn’t _his_ fault that Freddie was so fussy.

“Come in here and listen to yourself and then to me! You keep doing the same thing even when I tell you it’s wrong!” Freddie said angrily.

Roger stomped out from behind his kit and into the glass booth.

“Thank you, dear,” Freddie said, a hint of anger still on his tongue. “I need you to give it more power, you sound like you are hitting pillows.”

“Well I’m sorry I can’t do anything right!” Roger yelled, throwing his hands into the air. The truth was, his arms just felt like weak, limp noodles, and drumming with any amount of power was impossible.

“Rog, calm down,” Brian said softly, bringing a hand to rest of the drummer’s arm.

“No! He’s always criticizing me!” The blond boy shouted, voice gradually getting louder. “I can’t do it!” Suddenly, tears sprung from his eyes and slipped shamefully down his pale cheeks. Quickly he turned away and wiped them, but not before everyone in the booth had caught on to his emotional outburst.

Instantly, both Freddie and Brian’s arms were around his shoulders and waist, John not far behind.

Guilt soaked Freddie’s words, he felt so horrible. Never in his life had he made the strong drummer _cry_. “Oh darling, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You are an amazing drummer.”

Brian led him over to a chair and wiped his damp face. Cheeks reddening, Roger looked down at his sparkly pink converse.

“Sorry,” He said, sniffing weakly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you, my dear!” Freddie assured him, grabbing his hands, trying desperately to repair the situation. “Do you think you’re ready to try again?”

Roger rubbed his temples, a wave of dizziness coming over him. “Yeah, sure,” He replied, eyes still closed.

He got up from the seat, having every intention of waltzing back into the separate drum room and pretending that the last few minutes hadn’t happened at all, but instead, he fainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh sorry for ending it like that! I've been doubling the chapters up so they are longer, I'm sorry I left it there! Let me know what you thought x


	7. Hospitals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that this is probably boring and not very original at all, but I've really enjoyed writing it. I've been pretty down lately and this is what is keeping me afloat.

It felt like he was coming out of a very foggy dream. Roger opened his eyes slowly. How on earth he ended up in Brian’s arms on the floor was a lost memory.

“Rog! Oh god, are you okay?” John said from where he was knelt by Roger’s head. “You fainted.”

Freddie was nervously chewing his nails, also knelt on the drummer’s other side. Brian had caught him as he fell and was now soothingly running his hand through his hair and gently pulling him into a sitting position.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” Brian said firmly.

Roger reached up and rubbed his head. “Shit,” he said dizzily. “What happened?”

“You just blacked out!” Freddie supplied worriedly. “Brian got you, thank Christ, you were out for about a minute.”

“Scared us all shitless,” John said, helping Brian help the small blond boy to his feet. “Let’s get you to the doctor, that shouldn’t just happen.”

Freddie nodded in agreement, gathering their coats.

“Guys, I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy is all,” Roger said, trying to shrug Brian’s arm from around his waist, only causing him to tighten his grip.

“I don’t care,” Brian said gently. “You need to get checked out. First your mystery sickness and now fainting?”

“But I don’t feel sick anymore! Please Bri, you know I hate hospitals.”

Brian shook his head, leading the blond down the stairs, holding him close in case he fainted again. After more protesting and stern but caring looks from Brian, Roger finally gave in and got in the passenger seat of his car. The hospital was only a few minutes’ drive away, leaving worried Freddie and John back at the studio in the hopes of possibly getting a bit more work done.

“I swear I feel better now.”

Brian sighed. “I believe you, but fainting like that isn’t right. I just want to make sure you’re okay,” He said, tone softening. It made Roger’s heart swell to think of how much the guitarist cared about him, but he still didn’t see why he needed to go to the blasted hospital.

The Laminex floor squeaked under their shoes, disinfectant filling their noses as Brian checked in at the front desk of A&E. Roger stood behind, playing with the cuff of his jacket, slightly embarrassed that he was in the situation, the receptionist surely must have thought he was weak for just passing out for no reason. Instead, she offered him a kind look and a seat, promising that a nurse wouldn’t be too far away.

Luckily no Queen fans were in the emergency room that day, they often got stopped in the streets by fans asking for photos or autographs, which the boys always happily obliged. They loved meeting fans, but Roger was extremally thankful that no one was here to ask him anymore embarrassing questions.

“Roger Taylor? Please follow me,” A friendly looking young woman with bouncing brown curls said, signalling to them when they stood up. She gestured to a room across the small hall and asked them to both take a seat. After the boys introduced themselves, the nurse took out her clipboard of notes and filled in this new information.

“Pleasure to meet you both, my name is Nurse Allie Walker, but you can just call me Allie if you’d like,” She said, handing the clipboard to Roger for him to fill out his personal details. “What seems to be the problem today?”

“Well,” Roger started, fiddling with a loose thread on his jeans. “I fainted?”

Allie nodded, scribbling something down.

“He was sick yesterday, nausea and vomiting, but then it went away,” Brian said, filling the nurse in properly. “Then he was fine today, tired but not ill, and then he stood up and just fainted.”

The nurse nodded and gave them both a reassuring smile. “Sounds like you might have low blood pressure or an iron deficiency,” She said. “I’d like to start with taking your blood pressure, honey, is that okay?”

She strapped his arm in, pumping it until it gripped his small bicep. She frowned a little before removing the band. “Blood pressures’ fine, but I’d like to run a few more tests. Could you be dehydrated from the vomiting?”

Roger shook his head. “Brian is very good at forcing me to drink, especially because I was sick.”

A quick but sharp needle to the arm got a little vial of the blond boy’s blood for analysis for low iron levels.

“The results should be ready in a day or two, but in the meantime just make sure to drink plenty of water and try to get up slower, it sounds silly I know, but it should help.”

Brian nodded, noting this information carefully, knowing that the drummer would surely forget.

“There is just one more test I’d like to run,” Allie said. “Could you please provide me with a urine sample?”

“Uh, sure,” Roger mumbled, cheeks reddening as she pushed a plastic bottle into his hands. Perfect timing actually, he really had to pee.

It was a bit awkward to walk back from the loo with a jar of piss, but it was all in the name of science, and finding out what was the cause of his faint.

Brian gently took Roger’s hand in his, massaging little circles with his thumbs onto his palm while Allie was testing (?) his pee for god knows what.

The bond boy rested his head against Brian’s shoulder, tired and just wanting to get out of the uncomfortable place as soon as possible. The hospital stank of sanitisers and the cramped rooms and hallways were making him feel claustrophobic.

Allie turned around and removed her gloves, tossing them into the bin. She had a small smile laced onto her soft face. “This is a bit of a personal question so feel free to not answer, but are you two partners?”

Sensing that this was a professional question, and that she wasn’t a creepy Queen fan or a news reporter, Roger nodded, giving Brian’s hand a quick squeeze.

“Great,” She said, sitting back down in her chair opposite the two men. “I think we can rule out an iron deficiency, because I’m pretty certain I have found what caused your faint, and the sickness you had yesterday.” Allie smiled fondly. “Mr Taylor, you’re pregnant.”


	8. Heartbeats

The silence was deafening, both boy’s brains firing rapidly, trying desperately to process that information.

It was Roger who broke it, “P-pregnant? Is that even possible?”

But of _course_ it was possible, he knew this from his biology classes, how could be so _stupid_? How had it not even crossed his mind?

Allie nodded. “Male carriers are very rare, you are one of a kind Mr Taylor. I’ll pop upstairs and bring down an obstetrician to explain everything for you, congratulations!” Sensing an amount of shock from the couple, Allie quickly excused herself, allowing the boys some privacy. The door clicked softly behind her.

“ _Shit_ ,” Roger whispered quietly. “Bri, w-what are we going to do?”

Brian quickly turned in his seat and grabbed both of Roger’s hands. “Roger, I love you so much,” he said in a rush, still trying to absorb the news.

“I’m scared Bri, this is a lot to take in.”

Damn right he was scared. There was so much to think about; money, Queen, the rest of their lives. Hell, he didn’t know how to take care of a baby, let alone birth one! There was a whole new human growing inside of him, a tiny baby. _Brian’s_ baby. And that’s when it all clicked into place. A warm feeling spread from his heart to the very tips of his fingers. The feeling of the deepest _love_.

 

Gently, Roger unlaced one of his hands from Brian’s and slowly smoothed it out across his flat stomach. A baby. _His_ baby. Warmth smothered his hand as Brian’s joined on top of his, signifying that everything would be okay. They were family, all three of them.

“We are having a baby,” Brian whispered. “We are going to be parents,” He said, gradually raising his voice excitedly. “Rog, a baby!”

What could only be described as absolute ecstasy filled Roger’s mind. “You’re happy?”

Brian pulled the biggest smile he had ever done in his life. “I’m so happy, my darling,” He said, instantly softening his voice. “Are you?”

Roger pulled himself into Brian’s chest, whispering softly. “Yes, oh god, _yes_. A baby, _our_ baby.”

“I love you so much,” The tall man said again, mumbling into Roger’s hair before pulling his chin up so he could look into those perfect blue eyes. “You are the love of my life, Roger.” Their lips locked, and for a moment they were in pure bliss, surrounded by love and joy over the incredible news. Roger really was his one in a million.

 “I’m sure we will have plenty of time to talk things over soon,” Brian said when they pulled apart. “But I’ll always be right by your side, okay?”

The small blond nodded, hand still resting on his belly. He knew that they faced a very long road ahead but having Brian by his side eased Roger’s anxieties significantly. Just as he was about to resume their kiss, there was a soft knock at the door, and a small brunette man walked in.

“Good morning lads, and congratulations! My name is Dr Simmons, pleasure to meet you both.” After a polite introductory handshake, the doctor sat down opposite the couple. “I usually work in an antenatal clinic, but I popped in today to lend a hand.”

“Thank you for coming down, Dr Simmons,” Brian said, shifting in his seat slightly, ready with open ears to take in any information the doctor might have for them about their pending situation. “It’s very good of you.”

The man laughed heartily. “It’s no trouble, really. It’s my job to make sure your partner here gets the very best of care.”

Feeling a warmth creep up his neck spreading to his cheeks, Roger gave him a small smile.

“Now, male pregnancies,” Dr Simmons said, clasping his hands together in his lap as if it was as normal as talking about the weather. “Not common, but definitely not unheard of, I say let’s dive straight in.”

Brian could feel himself starting to like the cheery man, a good thing if he was going to be Roger’s obstetrician throughout his pregnancy.

Dr Simmons begun with asking some very embarrassing questions on the couple’s behalf to establish how far along Roger was. Eight weeks, six weeks since they ‘did the deed’ and an extra two weeks tacked on to count in ovulation. Then he asked about Roger’s symptoms, suggesting some remedies for if the nausea came back, and finally prescribing some prenatal vitamins and a few supplements he should take.

“Now, anything else you’d like to know?”

Roger straightened in his seat, ready with a very long list of questions in his mind. “Is it dangerous? Being a man and everything?”

“While male pregnancies tend to be a little more difficult that a healthy female one, it’s far from dangerous, and you are in good hands, son.”

Roger nodded. “Do you know when I’ll start showing?” He asked quietly.

“That depends on where your womb is sitting,” Dr Simmons said. “But I’d say quiet soon, considering how thin you are.”

Quickly, Brian jumped in on the discussion. “Is that going to be a problem? His weight?”

Dr Simmons shook his head. “No, just make sure you’re eating well, you’ll get plenty of nutrients for your growing baby. Gaining a few extra pounds wouldn’t go amiss, but don’t worry about it,” He said, directing his words towards the small blond. “There is a weight gain scheme I’d like you to follow, but I’ll explain that a bit later.”

That made Roger positively light up from the inside out. There was a baby, growing in his belly. _His_ baby! “Is there anything I shouldn’t be doing or eating?”

Dr Simmons quickly scribbled a small list of things onto a scrap of paper. “Make sure you don’t push yourself too hard, no overstretching or strenuous exercise. And food wise, I’ve written down all the things you should avoid.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Roger said, tucking the list into his pocket, one more burning question at the front of his mind. “I’m a drummer, so can I continue drumming?”

Dr Simmons smiled. “Ah, the drummer of Queen! Don’t think I didn’t recognise your names,” He said with a chuckle. “And I don’t see why it would be a problem, just as long as you only do it for short periods of time to not tire yourself. You will have to stop at some point, because you might damage baby’s hearing, but that won’t be for another few months.”

Praising god that he wouldn’t have to give up on his hobby straight away, Roger sighed in relief, squeezing Brian’s hand. At that critical point in the recording of the album, he couldn’t just stop drumming.

“I’d like to set up an ultrasound, just so we can check everything is going smoothly and to find a heartbeat,” The doctor said, pulling out a piece of paper. “I’ll book you in for tomorrow, 12 o’clock. Is that alright?”

“Yes, perfect, thank you doctor,” Brian said, accepting the paper with the details for the scan.

“That’s quite alright, and if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to give me a call. And congratulations again!”

Both boys thanked the doctor profusely, gathering their coats and finally leaving the hospital room.

Enlacing their hands, the couple walked into the sunlight, fresh air filling their lungs.

“Bri,” Roger said excitedly. “We’re having a baby!”

Pulling his boyfriend into a tight hug, Brian said joyfully, “My love, this is the best thing that has ever happened to me! You are making me into a father. Thank you so much.”

Locking lips, tasting pure joy and love, they melted on the spot. Right in front of the hospital, not having a single care in the world, the couple just swam in their blissful happiness.

 

____ 

__

“So, figured out Rog’s mystery illness?” Freddie asked when the boys returned to the studio, beaming their biggest smiles.

John stood by Freddie. “You look happy, what happened?”

Guiding the unsuspecting pair to the small couch in the corner of the booth, Roger took one of Freddie’s hands in his.

“Don’t freak out,” He started, immediately making Freddie and John vocalize about how much he was freaking them out. “We went to the hospital – no I’m not dying.”

He paused for a second, and Brian gave him an encouraging nod. They decided that he should be the one to break the news as soon as they got back, as Freddie would never forgive them if they kept it from him.

“But we did find out something very exciting,” Roger paused again.

“Well? Spit it out!” John said, breaking the silence.

Grabbing John’s hand too, Roger said softly, “I’m pregnant.”

From the tone of his voice and Brian’s giddy smile, they knew this was not a joke.

Freddie was the first to shriek. “Oh my god! Darling, that’s amazing!” He quickly wrapped him in a tight hug, John joining in too.

“Oh, Roger, this is incredible! Congratulations!” the youngest boy said, pulling Brian into their hug.

Tears sprung to Roger’s eyes, pooling and falling down his pink cheeks. “I’m so happy, so, _so_ happy,” He cried. “ _A baby_.”

“A baby!” John echoed joyfully. “The first Queen baby!”

“ _Wow_ ,” Freddie breathed as they all untangled themselves. “I can’t believe that you’re a carrier! A real baby!”

Roger wiped his happy tears and smiled.

“So,” Freddie begun, grabbing Roger’s hands. “Tell me everything! How far along are you?”

Roger didn’t waste a second in telling them everything the doctor had told them and didn’t hesitate in inviting them to the ultrasound which they both gleefully accepted. All four of them spent the rest of the afternoon gushing about the baby and making plans for the future. How they would finish the recording of the album, rearranging their schedule to fit more breaks in during the recording, how they would tour and everything in between. If anything, it only made the blond boy even more excited for his little baby.

 

It wasn’t until later that night in Roger and Brian’s bedroom when the fear hit. That horrible, indescribable fear of the unknown and the uncontrollable. All of a sudden, a million scary thoughts piled into Roger’s head, sending him pacing around their bedroom. When Brian asked what was wrong from his position on his bed, Roger just turned around and kept pacing.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

Quickly sitting up, Brian said, “Can’t do what?”

“Can’t have this baby! I can barely take care of myself!” He said hurriedly, running his hands through his hair nervously, breaths quickening, “What is I hurt it? I’ll fall down the stairs, I’ll eat something I shouldn’t, I’ll get sick!” He really was getting worked up now, and no one could stop him. “Brian, what if I do something bad? What if it dies?” he whispered very quietly.

Getting up and pulling Roger into his chest, Brian began softly, “My love, you couldn’t never hurt them,” He said into his boyfriend’s hair. “And you are the strongest man I know, if anyone could have a baby it would be you. You can do this, I know you can,” Brian whispered. “I know you are scared, and so am I. I understand. This is terrifying, but we will get through it, and I know that we will make incredible parents.”

Roger relaxed slightly in Brian’s arms. His anxieties were still ever so present, though. It was the fact that neither of them knew _anything_ about how to have, let alone _raise_ , a kid.

As if reading his mind, Brian said gently, “We don’t know very much, but we will learn. You are an _incredible_ father already.”

Roger sighed deeply, letting himself melt against his touch, allowing his fear to ebb away slightly.

“I love you Roger.”

“I love you too. Thank you,” Roger said tiredly, exhaustion replacing the fear that was still imminently present at the front of his mind.

Brian gently kissed the top of his head, a little gesture they had gotten so used to doing over the last six weeks. “Now please,” Said Brian, holding Roger at arm’s length and looking into his tired eyes. “Get some rest, my love.”

Roger nodded sleepily, before dragging on some short pyjamas and going to the bathroom one last time – he’d noticed quite a spike in his bathroom trips, apparently quite common during pregnancy, much to his annoyance – and finally getting into bed next to Brian, practically already asleep before his head hit the pillow.

  
Everything felt different now, but a very good kind of different. The four boys were all smiles the next morning, the prospect of actually getting to catch a glimpse of the baby, and to find out how they were doing inside of Roger’s belly had them all very excited. Freddie had already sat Roger down and had a lengthy chat with his future godchild, despite Brian telling him that they didn’t even have proper ears yet. To no one’s surprise, Freddie didn’t care one bit. Roger was just glad the both of his friends were as over the moon as he and Brian were on the prospect of a tiny child being born in to their lives in just a few short months.  

When they arrived at the little clinic that was written on the sheet of paper Brian was given, Dr Simmons greeted them all with a warm, inviting smile.

“Dr Simmons,” Roger said as they all filed in. “These are my best friends, Freddie Mercury and John Deacon. I hope you don’t mind that they are here.”

The doctor laughed heartily. “The more the merrier! Now, how are you feeling today?” He said, gesturing for them all to take a seat, Freddie and John situating themselves on the couch to the side of the spacious room.

Roger wasted no time in telling the doctor about his extensive tiredness, only to be reassured that this was completely normal.

“Your body is having a hard time catching up, Mr Taylor,” Dr Simmons said. “Your womb was effectively dormant up until now, and your hormones are working overtime to make sure everything is safe and prepared for baby. It’s quite normal to feel tired and emotional.”

“I guess that explains the tears from yesterday morning,” John said quietly, eliciting a laugh from Brian and Freddie, and a glare from Roger.

Roger hauled himself up on the bed and raised his shirt as the boys crowded around him.

“This will be a little cold,” Said Dr Simmons as he squeezed a light blue gel onto Roger’s flat stomach.

The doctor gently moved the small conductor across Roger’s tummy, seeking out the location of his womb, and his tiny baby.

“Ah,” Dr Simmons said. “Almost got it, your womb is indeed located right at the front of your abdomen, meaning you will be showing quite soon.”

And then, the most beautiful thing popped up on the staticky screen. Their tiny, bean shaped baby. Roger simply burst into tears and grabbed Brian’s hand.

“That’s our baby,” He breathed through the onslaught of tears. The other two boys had gasped, grasping each other’s hands in delight.   

“Oh, my love, they’re beautiful!”

Then, the most wonderful sound filled the room. _Their baby’s heartbeat_. Roger choked out a delighted laugh at the incredible sound, and Brian’s eyes filled with tears.

“It’s so strong, darling,” Freddie said softly, marveling at the steady beat.

Dr Simmons smiled as he printed out a few pictures of the ultrasound. “Yes, it is a great heartbeat. Very promising,” He assured, filling in the scan details. “Baby seems to be doing great in there.”

Passing Roger a few tissues for the gel and his tears, Dr Simmons finished up the ultrasound.

“I’m pleased to announce that you do, in fact, have a very healthy baby, with a great size for their age and an incredibly strong heartbeat.”

Roger and Brian beamed, Brian’s large hand placed delicately over Roger’s tummy.

“And, I’m glad to say that I will be your assigned obstetrician for throughout your pregnancy,” The doctor said, patting Roger on the shoulder.

Roger didn’t think he could smile any wider. “Thank you so much, Dr Simmons. We couldn’t ask for a better doctor.”

“It’ll be a long road, son, but I can see that you’ve got an excellent support system around you,” He said, offering the boys a bright smile.

“He sure does!” Freddie said joyfully. “Thank you for letting us sit in, Doctor.”

“It’s my pleasure,” He said, shaking Freddie’s hand again. “Now, before we finish, is there anything you’d like to know?”

They all had their fair share of questions, which the doctor answered gracefully, even the one Freddie had about what colour they should paint the nursery which they most definitely didn’t have. It helped ease Roger’s mind significantly, and even John had a list of quires to be answered. Both him and Freddie were drinking in the doctor’s words, Freddie even made a list on the back of a receipt of all the things Roger should be doing and eating to ensure a healthy pregnancy, everything from short walks to yoga and smoothies. Brian was just happy to sit hand in hand with his boyfriend, letting the other three do the talking. Everything seemed to be falling into place.

 


	9. Dizzy

The next morning wasn’t nearly as fun as the previous one. Roger had already been sick four times, all before it had even hit 6:00 A.M. The poor thing had even begged Brian to let him just sleep in the bathroom, which he firmly said no to. He absolutely hated seeing his love in discomfort but sleeping in the bathroom was downright unhygienic.

 

Roger would doze for barely 20 minutes before he had to spring up again and rush to the loo, and every time Brian would follow after him, holding his hair and gently rubbing his back.

“Please Bri,” Roger said as he leant over the toilet bowl for the fifth time. “I promise I’m fine go back to-” was all he managed before getting cut off by another wave of vomit.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Brian said softly. “Do you think you’re done?”

Roger slumped back onto his boyfriend’s chest. Gently positioning him against the bathroom wall, Brian got up and flushed the toilet, grabbing a glass of water for his poor sick darling and plonking himself down next to him.

“How do I even have anything left to throw up?” Roger questioned pitifully.

“I don’t know, love,” Brian said softly, letting Roger’s head fall onto his shoulder. “Go back to bed, I’ll get you something to soothe your stomach.”

Making a note to properly clean the bathroom later, Brian slunk quietly into the kitchen, trying not to wake anyone.

“How’s he doing?” John asked as Brian passed the lounge, making him jump violently. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you I just couldn’t sleep.”

“S’all right Deaky,” Brian said tiredly. “Morning sickness is hitting him like a fucking truck.”

John chuckled a little at Brian’s elegant analogy.

“I’m going to try to get him to eat something, or at least drink a little,” Brian explained as he filled the kettle.

John got a packet of crackers out of the cupboard.

“The doctor said that plain crackers and tea could help settle his stomach,” he said, popping a few on a plate. Brian smiled gratefully, pouring a mug of tea and grabbing the crackers.

“Roger…” he whispered quietly when he got back to their bedroom, setting down the plate and cup. “I brought you some things that should help.”

“If it’s more of the fucking tea you gave me the other day, you can shove it up your ass,” The blond boy said angrily, pressing his face into a pillow. “It tasted like shit.”

Brian slithered into bed next to him, running his long fingers through Roger’s soft hair. “It’s just normal tea today. And some crackers.”

Roger groaned loudly. “I can’t eat anything, Bri,” He said, rolling over to face his boyfriend. “I feel too sick.”

“Please, my love, you have to try something.”

Roger’s stomach felt like an angry ocean, waves were crashing and swirling around inside him, the sea threatening to make its way up his throat. His nausea was killing him, as was his sleepiness. He felt Brian’s hand work its way down to his jaw, caressing gently.

“I know you don’t want to, but you have to at least drink something. If not for me, then for the baby?” That just about did the trick, it got Roger slowly edging himself into a sitting position, not wanting to move to quickly for fear of vomiting all over their nice grey bedspread.

“Good…” Brian said softly as Roger took a sip of tea. He took another, but gaged loudly. Putting a hand over his mouth, Roger sprinted out of the bedroom with the devil hot on his trial. 

“What are we going to do with you, love?” Brian whispered softly into his boyfriend’s ear once he had finished puking up the few mouthfuls of tea.

“It’s the milk,” Roger said lowly, shakily walking back to their bedroom. “I can’t drink it with milk, thinking about it makes me feel sick.”

Brian quickly whisked away the evil tea, instead pleading that Roger at least try a cracker, which he did unwillingly.

“How do you feel?”

Roger paused, nibbling the cracker a little more. “Nauseous, but not like I want to throw this up.”

“Oh thank god,” Brian said, smiling, praising the lord that at least something could appease the drummer’s stomach. Kindly asking Roger to drink the glass of water he pushed into his hand (Okay, forcing him to drink it), Brian went back into the kitchen. Freddie had joined John now, both were enjoying cereal, coffee and morning tv.

Quickly filling them in on what they were dealing with, Freddie asked a near impossible question.

“Do you think he’ll be okay for studio this afternoon?”

Brian shrugged. “No idea. I guess we’ll just have to wait it out.”

 

The rest of the early morning was hell for poor Roger. He would just about slip into a restless sleep before he had to get up again, either to pee or to vomit. Brian had taken to just sitting by him in bed with a book, running his long guitarist’s fingers through his lovely blond hair, that was getting a bit knotted and tangled from all his tossing and turning.

Roger had been sleeping for about an hour when he woke up again. This time, luckily, it was only because Brian was quietly getting up out of the bed and pulling on a pair of tight jeans.

Brian smiled down at the sleepy boy. “Did I wake you, my love?”

He nodded, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, feeling considerably better.

“I was just going to get ready to go to the studio with John and Freddie, but I can stay here with you if you’d like?” Brian said, fishing through their chest of draws for a clean tee shirt. “Or are you feeling well enough to come along?”

Roger yawned, thankfully the nausea had finally disappeared.

“Yeah,” He said, scooting over to the edge of the bed. “I don’t feel sick anymore. Just tired.”

Brian lent down to hug him, kissing the side of his head. “Good, I hate seeing you sick. Now hop up and get dressed, I’ll make you something to eat.”

Roger laughed a little, standing up slowly. “Oh wow, you never used to pamper me like this before.”

A grin spread across Brian’s face. “You deserve to be spoilt, you’re making a whole baby!”

Roger lit up and brought one of Brian’s hands to rest on his belly. “You helped to,” He whispered, making Brian blush. He got down on his knees and kissed his boyfriend’s stomach. Their baby might not be visibly seen yet, but they were still in there, and that they were so loved already. Brian didn’t hesitate in telling them just that before wandering off into the kitchen.

The blond drummer spent a few minutes picking out the perfect outfit. He couldn’t help but think that in a mere few months none of his clothes would fit, especially the impossibly tight flares he loved to wear. He was sure as hell that Freddie would love an excuse to take him clothes shopping. An excited shiver ran down his spine at the thought that soon he would actually be able to _see_ his little baby in the form of a bump between his hips. And then, maybe he would be able to feel them moving around!

Roger bit his lip nervously. Yes, a baby bump would be extremely cute and fun, but then people would start noticing. He knew that he would have to make the big announcement to the world, but he just didn’t want to have to do it so soon. He liked being in this blissful baby bubble, just them and their happiness.

Yanking on a lovely pair of light washed blue jeans and a white button up shirt, he joined the boys in the lounge. There sat John braiding Freddie’s hair as usual, Brian sitting in his corner spot on the couch and a plate of toast and a glass of water with two pills next to it on the coffee table.

“Morning darling,” Freddie said, looking up as Roger sat down next to Brian. “Feeling any better?”

He nodded, reaching for the glass. “What’re these?” He asked, picking up the capsules.

“Prenatal vitamins and an iron supplement,” John said, smiling brightly, tearing his eyes from the intricate braid he was plaiting across Freddie’s head.

Gulping them down quickly, he had a bite of toast, marveling at the fact that it didn’t have him want to puke his guts out. Brian smiled encouragingly, watching his every move carefully in case he made a run for the loo.

A few minutes later, John clapped his hands together, showing off the braid he created to the rest of the group. “So,” he begun, slotting a few more bobby pins in Freddie’s dark hair. “Finishing Fred’s death song today then?”

“Yes, dear,” Freddie said, grabbing the hand mirror John gave him and admiring the beautiful work of art atop his head.

“Speaking of your songs, Freddie,” Brian said, scooting up in his seat and setting down his tea cup. “Have you got a name for the single yet?”

Freddie smiled mischievously. “Yes, in fact I do.”

He paused for dramatic effect, before opening his mouth again, “I’m going to call it ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.”

It was perfect. The title simply just _worked_ with the song. How he’d come up with such a poetic, gorgeous name was a mystery to the three.

“ _Bohemian Rhapsody_ ,” John breathed. “It fits perfectly!”

“Wow, Fred, that’s an amazing name!”

Roger took another bite of toast. “Trust you to first come up with the incredible bloody thing and then name it that! It’s beautiful!”

And it truly was.

 

The rest of the morning was very lazy, with just the four hanging out in the living room, watching tv and reading books. John had taken out Freddie’s hair and was trying another style, with about a hundred tiny French braids leading to a knot at the back of his head. His mother was the one who had taught him to braid, she used to let him do her hair of a morning, sat at the kitchen table before the sun had fully risen.

Roger was napping peacefully against Brian’s chest, mouth hanging slightly open, making Brian feel very warm and squishy on the inside, Roger really was his cutest when he was asleep.

 

After lunch when one o’clock hit, they all made the short walk down the street to the studio to get to work finishing the song they started.

The afternoon was running smoothly, Freddie was happy, they all sounded amazing, and they were working at lightning pace too, despite the extra breaks. Until Roger’s dreadful nausea came back. He was in the middle of recording a drum section, when a horrible wave crashed over him, almost making him drop the drum sticks. Determined not to show it, he pushed through, trying desperately to focus on the rhythm, and keeping his breakfast down. It was a blessing sent from heaven when Freddie finally called another break.

Roger got up very slowly, breathing deeply, willing himself not to vomit all over the nice plush carpet of the studio floor. He plonked himself down onto the couch and rested his head in one hand, the other over his stomach. Freddie and John were happily nattering away, Brian adding a comment here and there, not paying much attention to anything.

Not trusting his upset stomach, the now very pale drummer dragged himself up from the couch and started to slowly make his way over to the door.

“You alright, love?” Brian asked, watching his boyfriend slink away to the door.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, gripping the door handle, his tummy doing a flip. “Just going to the bathroom.”

The second he shut the recording booth door, he practically ran for the toilet, only just making it in time. _Thank fuck_ no one else was in there. God, this was horrible. The vomit burned his throat, making him cough and retch even harder. His whole body had begun to shake as his stomach emptied itself yet again.

Breathing heavily, Roger dragged his body off the bathroom floor. His head felt very light and tiny white spots had appeared at the corner of his eyes. The cool water on his hands didn’t help the dizziness one bit and turning around to exit maybe a little too quickly didn’t either. The world was tilting…further and further until it all when black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the support. does anyone have any preferences/suggestions for the name and gender of the baby?


	10. Curve

Roger had been in the bathroom for a very long time now. Brian was just about to get back to work again, when he noticed his blond menace still absent from the recording booth.

“Roger’s been gone for a while,” He said softly.

Freddie frowned. “I’m sure he’s fine, Bri.”

“Should I check on him?”

John laughed and shook his head. “No, don’t you remember what he said to you this morning when you checked on him while he was getting dressed?”

“It was something along the lines of ‘Brian, I can dress my fucking self,’ Wasn’t it, dear?”

Brian whined. “I was just making sure he hadn’t died or something!”

“Look,” John said, strumming his bass quietly. “He can look after himself.”

When Roger had not appeared some five minutes later, the boys finally caved.

“Okay,” Freddie said lowly. “Maybe he had been gone for a bit too long.”

Finally, they let Brian rush out of the booth to check the bathrooms. He did feel a bit silly in thinking that he needed to be by his boyfriend’s side at all times, and that it must be annoying for Roger. But they had only known about the baby for a few days, and Brian didn’t want anything bad to happen to either of them!

That’s why he nearly shit himself when he found Roger passed out on the bathroom floor.

He flung himself onto the floor, grabbing Roger and pulling his head into his lap, completely devoid of any sense of what to do. Yelling for Freddie desperately, he rubbed his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Please, oh god, Rog,” He whispered, trying desperately to wake him. “Please wake up!” Tears were now in the corner of Brian’s eyes, threatening to spill over.

“Shit!” Freddie yelped, rushing into the room, skidding to his knees next to them. “John, call the doctor.” Luckily, Freddie and John still had their wits about them, Deaky running off to the payphone and Freddie shaking Roger gently, calling his name.

Suddenly, his ocean eyes fluttered open.

“Oh thank fuck,” Brain breathed, relief flooding his veins. “Are you okay?!”

Roger sat up very slowly, peering around at the distressed pair. He brought his hands to his eyes, rubbing them hard, and then down to his belly.

“Did I faint?” He asked in a small voice.

Freddie quickly produced a water bottle from god knows where, thrusting it into Roger’s hands. “Yes, darling, John is ringing Dr Simmons now.”

Roger took a long sip of water, swallowing and breathing heavily, wondering how on earth he was going to survive the next seven months if this was to continue. He leant into Brian’s side, slipping his eyes closed, focusing on not throwing up again. He let the boys guide him back to the booth to wait for John to bring the car around from home. They led him down the stairs carefully, holding him tight.

“Why is it that you always faint at the studio?” Freddie grunted, pushing open the large glass door with one hand, the other firmly tucked around Roger’s waist. They quickly bundled him into the car and let John drive them around to the prenatal clinic where Dr Simmons worked at.

After a quick once over from the doctor, he sat the four down and assured them that nothing was wrong.

“Look,” Dr Simmons started, clasping his hands together, “Pregnancy is hard, especially for male carriers.”

Great, just dandy for poor Roger.

“You fainted most likely because of the vomiting, and dehydration.”

The blond boy looked down sheepishly. He had already gotten a lecture from Freddie for not telling them he as feeling ill.

“But is there anything we can do to stop it?” Brian questioned, giving Roger’s hand a tight squeeze.

The doctor nodded. “Oh yes, make sure to drink plenty of water, especially after vomiting, and keep eating even if you are feeling nauseous.”

They all nodded, despite his words being directed at the smallest of the group. They knew that it was _all_ of their jobs to keep him and the baby safe and well.

“In fact, most of the time nausea is caused _because_ your stomach is too empty, so try having a snack before getting up, and eating smaller meals more frequently throughout the day.”

“Fainting could also be caused by stress,” The doctor continued, “Or lack of sleep, lack of oxygen. Be careful around exercising and make sure you are getting enough sleep.” He smiled gently, “It’s tough, but pregnancy is such a special time in one’s life.”

Roger grinned, resting a hand on his flat stomach. Dr Simmons scribbled a little list of what to do if he passed out again. He said before standing up, “If it happens again, don’t hesitate to call, but it’s not an indicator that something is wrong, unless its coupled with pain or bleeding.”

A quick round of thanks later and the boys were out of the clinic, back into the cool autumn air again, pulling their coats around themselves tightly.

“See,” Roger said, smiling. “I’m fine!”

Brian frowned, opening the car passenger door for Roger, much to his discontent. “We didn’t know! Maybe something was wrong!”

“Children please,” Freddie mused, getting into the back seat next to John. “It doesn’t matter, everyone’s fine and we know why it happened and what to do if it happens again.”

“It’s just so much fuss,” Roger pouted. “You won’t even let me drive!”

“I’d much rather fuss my pants off over you than have something go wrong,” Brian said firmly, placing a large hand onto Roger’s thigh, giving it a quick rub.

The blond boy crossed his arms. He hated being tiptoed around, being fussed over. He was having a baby, not coming down with a horrific illness. He just wanted to be happy, for them all to be happy. He didn’t want them to worry. And, he desperately wanted the nausea and fainting to go away.

“Please,” Roger said softly, “I just want everything to be normal, okay? We should be excited, not in some sort of perpetual fear that something bad is going to happen! We’ve only known about it for two days. I’m pregnant, not dying.”

Freddie smiled at Roger’s little speech. “Of course we are excited, darling. But we want everything to go smoothly.”

John nodded, combing a hand through his long brown hair. “We just don’t have a fucking clue about _anything_.”

Roger chuckled, relaxing slightly. These few days had honestly already been the most exciting of his life, and the prospect of meeting his little baby at the end was just incredible and sent shivers running up his spine every time the thought crossed his mind. He was Roger fucking Taylor, he would protect this baby at all costs.

 

_____ 

__

Just two weeks after his last fainting incident at the studio, Roger was showing. It started off just like any other day, with Brian bringing him a piece of toast and a mug of black tea (Milk was now definitively on the black list), like the good doting boyfriend he was. After the toast, Roger wrapped himself around Brian, snuggling deep into his chest, soaking up his delicious scent. He smelt like old books and sunshine, very musky and bright. It really was true that the sex drive went up during pregnancy, Brian’s smell alone had Roger ready to go whenever (Brian was usually happy to oblige). Gently, Roger kissed Brian neck, working his way up to his jaw, and finally his pink lips, kissing softly. Brian shivered in pleasure, placing his hands around Roger’s waist and sitting them up. Roger’s skillful lips were just what Brian wanted, big hands rubbing circles on Roger’s grinding hips.

“Please Brian,” Roger whispered into his neck.

Weaving his hands into his boyfriend’s blond hair, Brian kissed him hard, humming slightly, sending vibrations up and down their bodies.

They were simply wrapped up in each other, the ‘honeymoon phase’ as Freddie liked to call it. Their searing kiss became hungrier and hungrier, Roger practically begging Brian to give him something more to work with. Clearly ready for some action himself, Brian shifted slightly, not breaking their kiss, trying to ease Roger’s shirt off. He certainly liked where this was going…

Then the door banged, making them both jump apart violently.

“Morning lovelies!” Freddie sung, bursting into their room, “Oh, don’t mind me!”

“Geez, Fred!” Roger exclaimed angrily. “Don’t you know how to knock?!”

Freddie chuckled, opening their bedroom curtains. “Breakfast is ready, and you need to get up anyway for studio.”  

Brian groaned. They were _so close_. Trust Freddie to come in and ruin the moment.

“You can’t just fuck the day away, dear!” He said before flouncing out of the room, leaving the door wide open.

“Good one Fred,” Roger mumbled under his breath, clambering out of Brian’s lap and walking out of the room to use the toilet.

“Well, now we know what we are waiting for when we get back,” Brian said when Roger returned, pulling him into a hug and kissing his forehead. He felt him smile into his chest.

Brian quickly pulled on a pair of black flares and a white top, before fishing out a shirt for Roger to wear, when he lay back down on the bed, clearly saying he wasn’t going to do it himself.

“Come on, love,” Brian crooned, tugging Roger into a sitting position.

Roger smiled up at him. “Dress me.”

Brian giggled, standing Roger up and flinging the shirt over his shoulder. Gently, he eased Roger’s pyjama shirt over his head and chucked it on the floor.

He gasped softly, eyes locked on his lover’s stomach.

“Rog,” He breathed. “You’re showing!”

Instantly, Roger’s hands rushed to his stomach, feeling a small, but distinct curve to his usual flat expanse of tummy. He laughed softly, grabbing Brian’s hand and placing it on his little bump.

“That’s our baby, Bri!”

Brian just couldn’t believe it, they could at last see their child poking out in there, and it was incredible.

 “Woah, that’s so cool Rog!”

Roger’s tiny bump was so cute, it sat nice and snugly between his hips, small but prominent. Slipping on the tight shirt Brian had chosen, Roger waltzed over to the mirror to inspect his belly. It was barely visible, but it was there. Brian quickly snatched his camera from his bag on the floor, ordering Roger to raise his shirt so he could snap a picture.

“Ten weeks,” Brian said aloud, waving the polaroid around. He grabbed a bit of scotch tape and stuck it to the mirror. “We should take one every month, I want to document everything!”

Roger smiled, giggling a little. “Even the morning sickness? Me going to the loo twenty-four seven?”

Brian shook his head, chuckling. “No, silly, but I want to remember this.” He reached out and grabbed both of Roger’s hands, squeezing them gently. “This is so exciting, and so amazing, I don’t want to forget.”

“Neither do I.”

 

Freddie and John were equally amazed as the couple were on finding out about Roger’s bump. Instantly, two pairs of hands were on Roger’s stomach, feeling the small indication that a baby really was on the way. Freddie was on his knees in a second, talking to his future godchild, telling them everything, from what they planned to record that morning to what he would first teach them to play on piano. John was just watching, quietly laughing at Freddie babbling like a maniac to Roger’s swollen belly. Pulling him away to only let Roger sit down and have some more breakfast, John pushed Freddie firmly onto one of the bar stools.

“This is so cool, Rog,” John said softly, “I mean it, you guys are going to become parents, there really is a baby in there!”

Roger smiled for what felt like the millionth time that morning, as a warm fuzzy feeling set over him. He gently placed his hand over his small stomach, caressing his baby, letting them know that they were just about the most loved baby on the planet, despite not even being born yet.

“I think it’s a boy,” Freddie said suddenly.

Brian scoffed. “Why are you so sure?”

“Yeah, it’s a fifty-fifty chance Fred,” Roger chipped in, chuckling at Freddie’s sudden input.

“I just know!” Freddie said defensively. “Besides, with that much sheer anger, do you really think Roger is even capable of producing a girl?”

Roger frowned, pretending to get mad, pointing a finger threateningly at Freddie’s laughing face. “You better be thankful hormones have made me go soft, Mercury.”

John stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I’m banking on girl.”

Brian clapped his hands together and said loudly, “Well, one of you is right, that’s for sure, but I think I agree with John. What about you, Rog?”

He pondered for a second, sipping his tea. “I’m indifferent. I don’t mind either way.”

Freddie mumbled under his breath, getting no back up and grabbing another piece of toast from the rack.

 

Recording actually ran smoothly for once that day. No fainting, no nausea and no fights, (Apart from the occasional – okay frequent – arguments over sections).

Death on Two Legs was finally finished, and Freddie had drawn up another schedule on what they would record next and their show practice. They could practically smell the finished album they were that close. And with only two songs left to record, the album would be released at the end of the month. Freddie was practically counting down the days until Bohemian Rhapsody was released, so desperate for his masterpiece to reach the world’s ears.

When they got home that night, all four boys were exhausted, practically collapsing onto the sofa the minute they walked through the door. Roger watched as Freddie slumped over to the phone to order some takeout, letting his mind wander back to their morning’s conversation. He really didn’t mind if the baby was a girl or a boy, as long as it _was_ a healthy baby. He couldn’t help but picture a little girl with bouncing golden curls and his exquisite blue eyes, or a tall dark-haired boy that was basically a carbon copy of Brian. It would be incredible either way. Roger smiled widely when he caught Brian watching him trace patterns on his stomach subconsciously, snapping out of his daydream.

“Just thinking about if they were a boy or a girl,” He explained, pulling one of Brian’s large hands into his lap, playing with his long fingers.

“I see a little girl, with blond hair and you amazing eyes,” Brian said, running a hand through the dark mop of curls atop his head.

“That’s what I see too, but I also picture a little boy, who looks exactly like you,” Roger said, smiling, running a hand over his little bump.

Brian chuckled at the image tiny versions of themselves running around the place, causing havoc. The mere thought that they were actually going to get a _kid_ at the end of this was so incredibly exciting it gave him goose bumps.

Roger felt his body melt against the couch as Brian slid his hand under his own and started gently caressing his tummy. He thought for the millionth time of how lucky he was. How blessed he was to have this amazing, beautiful man all to himself, and who had given him a baby.

He must have been the luckiest man on earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> give me those baby names!


	11. Crying

This was just one of those days.

 

Roger awoke to an empty bed, the sound of soft acoustic guitar and piano reaching his ears. After a quick pit stop at the bathroom, he joined his friends in the lounge.

“Morning, sunshine!” Freddie sung.

Brian smiled, patting the spot on the couch next to him. “How are you this morning?”

“I’m alright,” Roger pulled one of Brian’s hands into his lap and started playing with the long fingers.

“John’s making breakfast.”

The blond nodded, getting up and wandering into the kitchen.

“Morning Rog,” John said, scrambling some eggs and pouring them into a pan.

“Morning Deaks.” Roger yawned, stretching his arms into the air.

John continued to cook as Roger busied himself with making tea.

And then it started.

Roger turned with his mug, ready to fill it with boiling water when the scent of the eggs hit him like a bus.

The mug shattered, sending shards of ceramic bouncing across the tiled floor, as Roger dashed out of the kitchen but only making it as far as the hallway before he doubled over and was sick all over the floor.

Quickly, three voices hummed worriedly in his ears, but he could not make out what they were saying. Roger could feel that he was dangerously close to vomiting or fainting again, so instead of trying to decipher what they were saying, his stumbled into the bathroom, eyes half closed, head very fuzzy.

He dropped to his knees and vomited into the porcelain bowl, for what felt like the millionth time that past two months.

Then he sat back and burst into tears.

Freddie, who had been standing in the doorway the whole time, quickly rushed in and put an arm around the crying boy.

“It’s okay darling,” He crooned softly. “You’re alright.”

Roger just sat there, face pressed against Freddie’s chest, sobbing and shaking.

The Persian man let him, gently stroking his hair and whispering soothing words into his ear until Roger had calmed down enough to speak.

He sniffed, dragging a hand clumsily across his extremally pale face. “I’m just so _sick_ of feeling like this.”

Freddie nodded sympathetically, letting Roger continue.

“I feel so wrong – I’m so tired, and nauseous and sore all over. I just want to feel normal again!”

“And you will.” Freddie placed both hands on the smaller man’s shoulders. “Soon, I promise.”

“But this will just be replaced by something else! More back pain as I get bigger, breathlessness, stretchmarks!”

“But do you know what else will happen soon?” Freddie asked gently. “Soon you will be able to feel our little boy kicking.”

Roger instantly shut up and took a deep breath. Imagining the baby moving made his heart flutter, made him forget about all the shit he was facing now. His emotions flipped like a switch. He nodded, smiling weakly at Freddie’s certainty of the gender.

“You’re right,” he said. “This is nothing. It’s all just part of the process, right?”

The older man nodded, gently helping Roger to his feet.

“This’ll pass, honey. Now go lay down and have a nap, see if you feel any better after.”

Already feeling significantly better, Roger made his way back to his room, hand on the wall to steady himself. He still felt sick, that was for sure, but his mind was calm. These things were pointless to get worked up over. Better to sit back and relax, get excited for what was coming.

 

Brian checked on him a little while later, after finishing the lovely task of cleaning up his boyfriend’s puke. He stood in the doorway for a moment, just taking in the sheer beauty before him. Soft, pale skin. A halo of gold tresses spread across the pillow. Gorgeous perfect pink lips. And now, the most beautiful, tiny bump, clearly visible under Roger’s tight tee shirt. Brian sighed and closed the door softly. Even after being sick, how could Roger be so exquisite?

 

Well, when he next woke up Roger felt far from it.

He had the most splitting headache, and worst of all the nausea was still very much there. The bedside alarm clock read 11:07, he’d been asleep for almost three hours. Moving slowly, Roger got out of bed only because he really had to pee. Turns out he timed his bathroom trip perfectly, for he really had to vomit too. Great.

A wave of anger surged through him as he brushed his teeth. Why the _fuck_ did he deserve this? Whenever anyone mentions pregnancy, it’s all about the glow, or the perfect baby bump, or the magical kicking and thicker hair. All that he was getting was sick, fat and sore. And Brian constantly fussing.

“Are you alright, my love?” He asked, poking his head into the bathroom.

“Fine.” Roger threw his toothbrush into the sink and pushed past his boyfriend.

“You don’t sound fine,” Brian pestered, following him into their bedroom and sitting down on the bed.

“What do you want me to say?” Roger burst out. “I swear I’m okay, okay?”

“I want you to tell the truth. I care about you, Rog.”

“So you keep saying,” he muttered under his breath. “Look, this baby is giving me hell and there is nothing you nor I can do about it.”

Brian looked down feebly. “I know. I just wish there was.”

Roger sat down next to Brian and leant his head on his shoulder as an apology.

“All I really want right now is a coffee, a shot of tequila and a cigarette.”

Brian chuckled. There was something about his laugh that instantly dissolved Roger’s anger. Thinking back to Freddie’s words, he sighed, resting a hand on his little bump.

“Seriously though,” Roger started, tone softening. “I really am fine. Sure, I feel like crap but in the long run this stuff doesn’t matter. I don’t want to waste my time dwelling on how bad I feel. Just look to what’s coming! We are having a baby, Bri. Our baby will be here in six months!”

Brian smiled. “What did Freddie say to you? You’re like a different person!”


	12. Breakable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> maybe a little angst?

“Well, we’ll begin with Procession, then go on to Ogre Battle-”

“I think we should start with Now I’m Here, it’s got more energy, Fred, it would be a great starter.”

“Brian, we’ve always started with Procession, and the reason why we do Now I’m Here later is _because_ it has so much energy!” Freddie said, exasperated.

They were deciding the setlist for the upcoming show at a local pub. It was only an hour-long show, so they had to really cut everything down.

“Let’s just decide what we want in it, before we decide the order,” John said calmly, keen to avoid an argument.

Roger finally piped up from his place lounging on the couch. “We’ve got to have Killer Queen, obviously, and I want Keep Yourself Alive.”

Brian looked over to him with a concerned look. “With the drum solo? Are you sure you’re up to it?”

Roger quickly sat up. “Yes Brian! I’ll be fine, don’t take away all my fun!”

“But-” Brian started, before being shushed by his boyfriend.

“Don’t worry, okay? I’ll be able to do it.”

He nodded, scribbling the two songs Roger said onto their current ‘setlist’.

“Oh- add Flick of The Wrist and both Lap of The Gods.” Freddie said, twisting a strand of his dark hair between his fingers.

“We can’t just have Sheer Heart Attack songs, Freddie,” John pointed out.

Freddie scoffed, before saying, “John, this _is_ basically part of the Sheer Heart Attack tour.”

“I know, but we have to have stuff from the other two albums as well. At least we have to have Liar.”

Roger chuckled. “Because you get your amazing solo?”

“If you can have Keep Yourself Alive, I can have Liar!”

“Fine, fine,” Freddie chuckled, scribbling down the crowd favourite song. “But we’ve only got four days before the show, so we’d better get to it.”

It took the group another hour to finally come to agreement on the setlist, before they could actually get into rehearsing it.

They really didn’t need that much practice, they only needed to make sure everything flowed properly. Oh, and to see if Roger could actually do one hour of sustained drumming without straining himself.

Everything was running smoothly, until he broke one of his sticks.

 

“Fuck sakes!” Roger cursed loudly, rubbing his arm where the wood had hit him.

The other three stopped abruptly, looking over to the blond.

“You alright?” Brian questioned, resting his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, it’s the fucking shit sticks.” Roger said angrily, wriggling out from behind the kit to search for his spare pair. He squatted down in front of one of the boxes of stuff they had piled in the studio, rummaging around for a set of drum sticks.

Brian walked up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder gently. “Do you need any help?”

Roger looked up to him with a thunderous face. “I’m not incompetent Bri! Jesus, do you think I’m immobile or something?!” He stood up, rolling his wrists, frowning at the tall man before him.

“No,” Brian mumbled, slightly taken aback. “I was just offering-”

“Well don’t just offer. I’m perfectly capable! Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the rest room, if you’ll allow me to do that by myself,” Roger spat, stomping away.

“Good one, Bri,” John said lowly, placing his bass back on its stand and plonking himself down on the couch.

Brian ran his long spider fingers through his curly hair. “I was only trying to help!”

“He doesn’t need help,” Freddie said. “Yet, at least.”

“I think he thinks that _you_ think he’s useless,” John said.

Brian whipped around to look at him. “What? No! I would never think that, I just don’t want him to put himself under any more strain!”

Freddie nodded. “I know, but we’ve got to be subtle. And it’s probably just hormones or something messing up his head.”

Brian nodded miserably. The last thing he needed was grumpy Roger thinking Brian thought he couldn’t do anything himself. It was so hard for the poor older man to watch his boyfriend be under such emotional and physical pressure and not do anything to ease the stress. He knew that Roger was perfectly capable of looking after himself, but he couldn’t just stand there and watch without offering himself to do his every bidding.

“I’ve really fucked this up now, haven’t I?” Brian said into his hands.

Freddie sighed, sipping his cup of water. “Just wait til he comes back and apologise.”

“Hopefully he hasn’t fainted again,” John joked with a chuckle.

Freddie had returned to the piano, running through some notes for their upcoming show when Roger returned. He looked paler and was gently rubbing his small stomach concealed behind a loose shirt.

“You alright?” Brian asked nervously.

Roger shrugged, returning to his search for a spare pair of sticks. “Been sick again, but you know…” He said, almost casually.

Brian stood up from the couch in alarm. “Are you alright? Do you need a drink? Do you want to go home?”

The blond turned and looked at his lover. “I’m fine, Brian,” He said harshly. “Let’s just get back to playing, okay?”

“But Roger, you have to stay hydrated, do you need a snack? Or maybe-”

“I said I’m fine!” Roger repeated, annoyance lacing his voice. “Just leave me alone, okay? Stop fussing!”

Brian returned his hands to his hips. “Roger, I know you want to do everything by yourself, but please let me help you.”

“Oh my god, Brian!” Roger said loudly. “Stop treating me like a fucking child! I’m a grown man, I can look after myself! Stop walking on eggshells around me and treating me like I’m about to break,” he finished angrily.

The small recording booth was filled with an uncomfortable silence.

“Rog, I-I’m sorry…” Brian stammered.

“You all just think that because I’m pregnant I’m not allowed to do a single fucking thing for myself,” He continued, ignoring Brian’s apology. “Well, I’m only 11 weeks, I’m barely showing, and I’ve still got a functioning body for Christ sakes!”

Freddie stood up slowly and gently placed a hand on his arm. “Honey, it’s okay, we don’t think that at all.”

Roger pushed his hand off roughly. “You do! All of you! I already feel like shit okay? I’m so tired, I puke every other hour, my back hurts like hell so I don’t need to be treated like a baby too.”

“Roger-”

“Don’t! Just don’t, I don’t want your sympathy or your help! Just leave me alone,” Roger shouted, before stomping right out of the studio, slamming the door behind him.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” John said nonchalantly before turning to Brian. “Pack up your stuff and go home, mate. Freddie and I will finish up here while you sort him out.”

Brian fiddled with his guitar strap nervously. “What if he doesn’t want me with him?”

Freddie scoffed. “Don’t be silly, darling. He probably feels bad about it now. You really should go talk to him.”

The tall man nodded glumly, gently placing he beautiful red guitar safely back in its case.

 

The peeling white paint on their bedroom ceiling was Roger’s only company in the empty flat. God, he felt absolutely rotten. How could he be so cruel, so horrible, so _selfish_ , to the man he loved. To the man who only wanted to help, who wanted the best for him and their child.

He felt like he couldn’t do anything right. It was like everything he touched shattered like glass, crumbling under his brute temperament and short temper. All he did was mess things up.

Roger’s eyes snapped close when he heard a key turn in the front door’s lock. He really, _really_ , didn’t want to face whoever it was. Probably Brian, here to tell him that he was shit boyfriend and a shit parent and that he was breaking up with him. Oh god, please no.

“Roger?” It was indeed Brian, his voice so timid it broke Roger’s heart.

The bed he was laying on dipped slightly at the end, indicating Brian had sat down near his feet.

“Roger, I’m so sorry.”

Roger exhaled deeply, opening his eyes, staring at the roof. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

A warm hand started tugging off his trainers, he could just see the top of Brian’s curly head out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m sorry for assuming you always need help. I know you are fine doing things yourself,” Brian said gently before continuing, “I’m sorry for always fussing. I just love you so much.”

A lump formed in Roger’s throat. He sat up slowly, gazing into Brian’s gorgeous hazel eyes.

“And I’m sorry for being an angry mess,” He mumbled. The older man smiled, scooting up the bed to be a little closer. “I’m sorry for getting shitty with you. You don’t deserve it.”

Roger buried himself into Brian’s warm chest, focusing on the steady beat of his heart. “I love you so much,” He breathed, allowing his eyes to slip close, his exhaustion finally crashing in.

Brian gently rubbed his back, working the tension away, easing the dull ache. He stroked his hair, placed sweet kisses onto his head until the blond fell fast asleep. He carefully lay his partner back down on the bed, pulling the blankets over him.

Brian looked down at the sleeping boy before him. The hour’s misery and anger had completely dissipated. All that was left was peace. Everything was calm.

But this is Roger Taylor we are talking about, how long could it last?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy partners, I just wanted to quickly say that although this whole fic is pretty shit and just a dumb hobby i have, I really apreciate every comment and kudos it means a great deal


	13. Performance

It was a soft twinkling of ivories that awoke Roger. Pale autumn sun was streaming in through that partially drawn curtains, casting a delicate golden hue over the bedroom. As his eyes adjusted to the light, Roger rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty, but still slightly warm.

“Good morning, darling!” Freddie sung from the piano in the living room.

The blond boy rubbed his eyes sleepily. “Morning Fred. Where’s Bri?”

Freddie shrugged, tapping out a few more melodic notes. “Gone out somewhere, I think. He wouldn’t tell us where, said it was a secret,” He finished off with a grin.

Roger yawned, nodding as he ventured into the kitchen for some breakfast.

John smiled at him as he walked in. “Morning Roger, how are you feeling?”

“Hi Deaky. I’m feeling great, actually. I’m really sorry about yesterday, I was tired, and angry…but I slept it all off.”

John gave the smaller boy’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks John,” Roger smiled, pulling him into a hug. “Could you make me a coffee, please?” He asked quietly.

“Uh-uh. You know what the doctor said,” John replied, pointing his finger. “No caffeine for you.”

Roger groaned loudly. “Come on! I bet Brian would let me have it.” He pouted.

John chuckled. “That’s because Brian has gone all soft on you. I’m here to keep you in check.”

Roger leaned into John’s ear and whispered slowly, “Oh no, he’s _very_ hard on me.”

“Roger Taylor!” John exclaimed, falling in with Roger’s laughing.

By now, Freddie had flounced in, attracted by the laughter. “What’s all this?”

John could barely speak through his giggles. “Roger’s sex-talking.”

Freddie’s mouth fell agape in fake shock. “Roger! You’ve got a boyfriend!”

“Not to me idiot! He’s talking about Brian!”

“Ooooo,” Freddie said, taking a seat on one of the barstools and pouring himself some tea. “Does he have a big cock?”

Roger wiped a happy tear from the corner of his eye before nodding.

“Goodness,” Freddie said, placing a hand over his heart. “How big? Is it hairy? Gosh, does his have big balls too?”

John and Roger shrieked with laughter like little school girls.

“Stop!” Roger pleaded, giggling uncontrollably. “I’ll wet myself!”

“Well we wouldn’t want that,” Freddie replied with a cheeky grin before continuing quietly, “Is he any good?”

The kitchen door suddenly swung open to reveal the man of the hour.

“Whose any good at what?”

Freddie spun around in a flash. “Brian! Roger’s just been filling us in on what a wonderful boyfriend you are!”

“Uh-huh…” Brian said, confused at Freddie’s strange manner before continuing. “Rog! I’ve got a present for you.”

Roger practically lit up. “What kind of present?”

“A special one,” Brian said, taking his boyfriend’s hand and leading him out of the kitchen.

“Safe sex, kids!” Freddie called after the pair, laughing quietly with John.

Roger called back playfully, “What’s he going to do? Knock me up?”

Brian led Roger all the way to their bedroom, sitting him down on the bed and instructing him to cover his eyes. Roger grinned, he loved this secretive Brian. When he opened them again, there was a little white box on his lap, inside of which was the softest, tiniest white baby blanket.

“Oh Brian…” Roger breathed, lifting it carefully out of the box. It had ‘May’ embroidered on one of the corners and ‘Taylor’ embroidered on the other. “This is so beautiful, I love it!”

Brian beamed, sitting down next to Roger.

“Thank you so much,” The blond whispered, turning around and kissing Brian gently. “Wow, this is the first thing we’ve gotten for the baby. It’s gorgeous!”

“Glad you like it,” Brian replied, taking Roger’s hand in his. “I just wanted our baby to be wrapped up in love.”

Roger smiled happily. “You really are the sweetest guy I know.”

They lent in and sealed the magical moment with a soft kiss. It was moments like this that Roger wished he could bottle up and cherish forever.  

 

Just three short days later, the boys were back in their natural habitat; in a pub’s back stage area about to do a show. Except things felt unusual, there was a different kind of nervousness hanging in the air. Brian was especially worried about his boyfriend, although he wouldn’t dare vocalise it without being invited. He was absolutely convinced that something would go horribly, terribly wrong. And Roger could clearly see this painted on Brian’s pale face.

“What’s wrong, Bri?” He asked, rolling his wrists to warm them up.

Brian frowned from where he was sitting, playing a few chords on his guitar to make sure it was in tune. “I’m just a bit nervous.”

“About what?” Roger questioned further, tucking a strand of stray curly hair behind his lover’s ear.

He sighed, fiddling with the corner of his tight white top. “You, mostly. I know there’s nothing to worry about, but I can’t help it…”

“Brian,” Roger started firmly, tilting his chin up with one hand. “I assure you, everything will be absolutely fine. I’ll be okay.”

Brian nodded, unconvinced, but gently resting his head against Roger’s small stomach anyway.

“One minute!” A stage hand yelled at the four, beckoning them to the side of the stage.

They all looked incredibly stunning. John was wearing dark tight satin flares and a starry black top, Brian had a beautiful number of matching light flared top and pants, Freddie was dressed in the most outrageous dark sequined leotard you had ever seen, and even Roger felt like he looked good. Wearing a pair of slightly stretchy black flares and a loose white button up with most of his chest exposed, he felt comfortable and sexy at the same time.

Finally, the boys filed out onto the stage, adrenaline pumping through their veins, the crowd’s cheers filling their ears. Freddie introduced them, gaining even more noise from the audience, before Roger counted them in and the well-oiled machine of Queen burst into life.

It really was a spectacular show. Everyone loved it, especially the little taster of Bohemian Rhapsody Freddie had somehow managed to slip in. One hour seemed to be the perfect length. It was long enough to provide a stunning performance, and short enough that Roger could stay drumming strongly throughout. He only just started getting weaker towards the end, signalling to the other three to wrap things up.

The four finally exited the stage, after many bows and thanks.

“Wow!” Freddie said joyfully, slightly out of breath.

Brian pulled his guitar over his shoulder and popped it back in its case. “That was amazing!”

John nodded, grinning. “Well done, everyone. They loved us!”

“I honestly think that was our best show,” Brian replied.

“You say that after every show, Bri,” Freddie laughed, before looking over to Roger. “Hey, are you alright, darling?”

The second they had got off the stage, Roger had gone straight to the nearest couch and sat with his head in his hands, breathing deeply. He had the worst headache, it felt like someone was inside his brain trying to get out. And he felt so sick. God, surely he would be used to the horrid feeling by now. He felt like there were literal waves crashing about inside his belly, and that he was about to puke at any second.

He didn’t dare open his mouth, so he shook his head.

Instantly, three bodies crowded around him, three coddling voices sounded in his ears.

“Oh, honey, what’s wrong?”

“Do you need some water? What’s the matter?”

“Rog, my love, do you feel sick?”

The blue-eyed boy looked up and stared pleadingly at Brian. He seemingly understood the look and instructed Freddie to get a bin or something in case he needed it, and John to get some water. 

Brian sat down next to him on the hard couch, gently rubbing his back and whispering sweet things in his ear.

Freddie and John had left to pack the car so they could leave, so it was just the two of them.

“You were really good out there tonight,” Brian whispered. Roger looked over to him and gave him a weak smile.

“Do you feel any better?”

Roger took a deep breath. “No.”

Brian’s face fell. “I wish there was something I could do.”

The blond boy shut his eyes and tilted his head back, trying to control his breathing and attempting to keep his dinner down.

“Do you think you could walk back to the car?”

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Roger quickly pulled the bin between his knees and was sick straight into it, all his dignity and pride thrown out the window. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Oh, my love…” Brian crooned softly, holding Roger’s long hair back. “It’s okay…”

Roger slumped back into the seat, eyes closed, not wanting to look at the mess he’d made of himself. He felt Brian stirring beside him, probably cleaning away the vomit.

“Come on, darling. Freddie and John have the car ready. Let’s get you home.”

Roger basically made Brian carry him back to the parking lot, slinging one arm around the taller man’s shoulder, barley even picking up his feet.

He simply wanted to know why he felt this way. Sure, morning sickness (Which definitely didn’t just occur in the morning thank you very much) was a common symptom of pregnancy, but why did he get it right after a show? And why was it so fucking bad?

John and Freddie’s voices were slightly muffled when he finally got into the car. He was too busy trying not to soil the lovely interior of his pride and joy than listen to their questions.

 

When they arrived back at the flat, Roger quickly slipped into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He really didn’t need anyone seeing him like this.

He shivered, feeling weak and cold, retching and coughing into the toilet bowl. He leant back into the wall, only reaching up to flush the toilet. God, this was disgusting. His face was all sweaty, blond hair surely soaked and pressed to his forehead, he could barely feel his legs and he smelt like vomit. What a great end to a wonderful night.

Back in the kitchen, the other three boys were talking softly.

“Do you think he’s alright?” John asked, leaning his bass against the wall.

Brian shrugged. “I don’t know. Should I check on him?”

John shook his head. “Wait until he’s done, I think we should give him a little space first.”

“I wish he was okay,” Freddie mumbled solemnly. “When’s the next appointment?”

Brian rubbed his temple. “Next week, I think? It’d be the twelve week one.”

Freddie nodded, before leaving for bed. John followed him soon after, giving Brian a sad look. They all felt badly for poor Roger, and completely helpless too.

Roger was curled up under the blanket on their bed when Brian entered the bedroom. He was facing the wall with his eyes shut, but he could tell the younger man wasn’t asleep.

Brian silently changed into a pair of pyjamas, before slipping into the bed next to him. He scooted over, gently pulling Roger over so his back was flush against Brian’s chest. He gently kissed the boy’s blond hair and neck, snaking an arm around his waist to rest on Roger’s slight bump.

He felt Roger relax under his touch, heard his breathing slow to an even, gentle pace.

Roger fell into a deep sleep, at ease with Brian’s soft body, clasped in his hand the white baby blanket, stroking the soft material, calming his mind.

 


	14. Clinic

The sun was out, finally casting a little warmth on the cool November morning. Golden leaves crunched under the pair’s feet, scattering all over the cobbled path. Birds chirped happily in the almost bare trees, and the sky was impossibly blue, uncommon for London in autumn. Roger and Brian were walking hand in hand down the street, opting for the short stroll to the antenatal clinic to get some fresh air. It was the much anticipated twelve-week appointment. It was a huge sigh of relief for the pair, because they had officially made it through the first trimester. Only six more months to go. Roger was especially glad that the first three months were over, for it meant that finally the dreadful nausea would go away. The couple were excited to see their baby again, and to make sure that they were doing alright.

 

“Roger, Brian! How wonderful to see you both again,” Dr Simmons said as they settled down into the office. “How have you been feeling?”

Roger sighed, squeezing Brian’s hand. “Not amazing, if I’m honest.”

The doctor stayed quiet, inviting the blond to continue.

“I’ve been having awful morning sickness, especially after drumming. Is that a bad sign or something?”

Dr Simmons pondered for a few seconds before he spoke. “Well, it could mean that they don’t like the drumming. As strange as that sounds, the vibrations might be upsetting baby.”

Roger’s face fell. “Oh god,” he whispered. “Have I done something wrong? Should I stop? Are they alright?”

“Don’t worry, son. I’m sure baby is fine. It is probably just coincidental, and the nausea should clear up this week. Now, I’d say let’s take a look at baby and see what they’re up to.”

Brian helped Roger up onto the gurney, and gently raised his shirt, drawing a quick heart on Roger’s swollen belly before taking a seat next to him.

The younger man shivered as the light blue gel was squirted onto his abdomen and moved around by the transductor. And then, their baby fluttered up on the grainy screen, and Roger couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

They were so perfect.

Brian ran a gentle hand through Roger’s blond locks, kissing his forehead softly.

“That’s our baby, Rog.”

Roger wiped his tears with a tissue, completely uncaring about being ‘manly’. That was his unborn child, for Christ sakes!

Brian smiled to himself, pulling out his camera and snapped a picture of his two favourite people, Roger and their baby.

“Baby looks very healthy!” Dr Simmons said happily, printing out some pictures for them.

Once they were back behind the desk, Dr Simmons proceeded with the appointment.

“Congratulations on making it through the first trimester. This means that we’re are officially out of the danger zone, and that the possibility of a miscarriage has dropped down to less than one percent.”

Roger shivered at the thought of losing his baby, placing a hand over his bump protectively.

Dr Simmons took the measurement of Roger’s stomach, and his weight to make sure development was progressing normally. He gave the pair a weight gain chart and a list of meal options and activities to promote healthy weight gain and exercise.

Then he started talking about the birth, a subject both Roger and Brian had avoided until now. It wasn’t that they didn’t _want_ to know, it was just all a bit frightening.

“You’ll need to consider how you’d like to give birth, that being either caesarean or naturally.”

Roger looked up at the doctor for a second, opening his mouth and then closing it again. “Um, could you please give us a run down on the whole…anatomy of a natural delivery?” he mumbled, slightly embarrassed. It was his body, but he still didn’t have a fucking clue of how this thing was going to get out.

Dr Simmons chuckled. “Of course – a male delivery is very similar to a female one. You have an opening where the baby will pass through, just like any woman. Most male carriers never even notice this, it’s small and concealed, and now that you are pregnant, it may become more sensitive. This opening, a sort of male passage for the baby, is almost impossible to find when you are not pregnant. The body hides it so well to reduce infection of your reproductive organs. So, when the time comes, your cervix will begin to dilate, and your womb will contract. This will push the baby down into your birth canal, and when you have reached ten centimetres dilated, you will begin to push the baby out. It sounds quite confusing, doesn’t it?”

Roger nodded, cheeks reddening.

“That’s okay, Mr Taylor, we are here to help clear anything up if needed. There are many things to think about when choosing delivery. Caesareans are simple, the procedure is painless, but the recovery consists of at least a week in hospital, and a further six weeks of only low impact activities to allow the incision to heal and the muscles to stitch back together. That means no drumming for a while.” Dr Simmons explained before continuing, “Birth is the most natural thing in the world. It is what your body was built for, but that doesn’t make it easy. A natural delivery would be more painful, but the delivery is actually easier on your body and the recovery is _much_ quicker, only a day or two in hospital. It is entirely up to you. We are here to assist you, Roger, so if you have any concerns or questions on this matter, don’t hesitate to let us know. We want you to feel in control, it is your body.”

Roger smiled. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Dr Simmons nodded. “You’re welcome son. Take all the time you need deciding which option you want to go with, you’ve still got plenty of time.” The doctor paused for a moment, before continuing their appointment. “We hope to see a few things over the next month, one of those being feeling movement.”

Roger grinned, that was what he was most excited for.

“We can also expect baby to have a growth spurt, so you may feel hungrier more often. You might also feel discomfort around your hips and pelvis, because the bones and ligaments will begin to soften and move further apart. This is to aid a natural delivery, so you might notice the shape of your lower body change.”

The pair nodded, absorbing the new information as best they could.

“Now, I think that just about covers everything. If you have any questions over the next month, be sure to contact me at any time, day or night.”

The pair shook hands with the friendly obstetrician, saying their goodbyes, their minds filled with new information as they stepped back into the sunshine.

“What do you think?” Brian asked, slipping his hand into Roger’s.

“I think I want to try naturally,” Roger said. “I really don’t want to stay in the hospital longer than I need, and I want to recover as soon as possible after.”

Brian smiled. “You really are the strongest man I know.”

“Damn right,” Roger said playfully, swinging their arms. “But I certainly want _all_ the drugs.”

“Rog,” Brian asked softly, sounding nervous all of a sudden.

“Mmn?”

Brian paused for a second. “When are you going to tell your parents?”

Roger almost stopped in his tracks, completely caught off guard.

“Sorry, I, uh, just-”

“No, it’s okay,” Roger cut him off, sighing. “I guess I can’t avoid it forever. I promise I’ll tell them soon. Or I’ll at least tell mum soon. What about your parents?”

Brian accepted Roger’s half-answer, before addressing his question. “Whenever you want me to, I don’t mind.”

“I don’t really mind either, it’s your baby too.”

Brian smiled. His baby too. “I think I’ll just call them. Saves the trip for them to come down here or us to go up there.”

Roger nodded. He knew that his own parents deserved to know too, but he didn’t want to tell them. He was too scared.

Thinking of his home life split open a healing wound. Thinking of those long nights of shouting, screams of pain on his mother’s behalf. And then getting the same treatment the next morning was almost too much to bare thinking about. Loud yelling, loud swearing, loud banging of doors…this is why Roger had filled his life with other loud things, to drown out the noise. The sound of banging drums conveniently covers things that no teenage boy deserved to hear. If only the cacophony a crash cymbal made could cover deep purple bruises scattered across pale forearms, cheeks, legs. Roger dealt with sick guilt for years after his father left. He should have been glad, and he was glad to see his mother happy again, but there was something deep down that yearned for a father, even if his was utter shit. His mother would always call him that, telling her eldest child to never, _never_ , turn out like him.

And that was exactly what he was most afraid of. Being a bad parent.

What if raising a child was too stressful? What if his heightened anger and short temper got the better of him? What if lack of sleep got to the both of them, causing even more fights? What if they broke up? Oh god, he would hate, no, _despise_ , putting his child through anything like what he went through. No, it would not happen. Never.

Yes, he would tell his mother about the impending grandchild. But after barely seeing his father in ten years or so, what would be the point?


	15. Jeans

And two weeks later, Brian broke the big news to his parents. Naturally, they were thrilled. Mrs May immediately screamed and demanded to be passed to Roger so they could talk all things babies. They ended up talking for a good hour before Brian could speak again. His mother was quite upset she wasn’t told sooner, but she understood why they waited.

“We didn’t want anything bad to happen, you see Mum?” Brian twisted the winding telephone cord around his finger. Roger grinned from next to the receiver, he was over joyed that Brian’s mother took it well, and he was sure his father would too. Plus, having someone who’s been through it all before was helpful too, seeing as he hadn’t told his own mother yet.

“Well ring me any time you have any questions, Brian. That goes for Roger too,” she said, before saying goodbye and finally handing up.

Instantly wrapping himself up in Brian’s arms, Roger took a deep breath of his scent and smiled. Still in their pyjamas, the pair cuddled up together on the sofa, not speaking, just being together. Brian could tell that Roger was pleased, he himself was very happy that his parents were happy, although he never doubted that they would be accepting.

 

November was nearly over, Christmas was just around the corner, and that meant a special something came out that day…

Then suddenly, there was a massive crash and a scream. The pair sprung up, Roger cursing loudly and Brian running into the hall to see what had caused all that noise.

It was, of course, Freddie, who ran out of the room with the biggest grin on his face.

“Fred, what’s going on?” Brian asked quickly, convinced someone had died.

“Don’t you remember, darling?” Freddie called as he ran into the lounge and plunged into the piano. “Today’s the day!”

“We know, Fred,” John grumbled, joining them in the lounge. “But you don’t have to run around and push coat racks over just because you are excited.”

Freddie turns to the three, a look of pure excitement pasted onto his face.

“The album is out today!” Freddie jumped out from behind the piano and pulled John into a spin. “We have to get ready, we have to go to the studio, we have to see the managers, we have to do a press release! It’s out it’s out it’s out!”

The raven-haired boy sprinted to the front door and flung it open, running out into the apartment hall before slowly turning around.

“Well,” he said, looking down at his pyjama clad body. “Maybe I’ll get ready first.”

 “Let me at least have a cup of tea, Fred.” Brian rubbed his eyes and walked into the kitchen, tired of his friend’s shenanigans.

They talked about the album all through breakfast, Freddie visibly shaking from excitement. After months of hard work, interruptions, the incredible trip to Rockfield Farm and the fainting, the album had finally been finished just a week or two earlier and was now finally being released. The vinyl cover had been finished moths earlier, so all that was left was to finish recording the damn thing and get it out to the shops.

After their jittery meal, Brian was nominated to do the cleaning while the other three got ready to go.

Roger fished through his draws, trying to find the perfect sexy outfit for the press release. Pulling out his favourite pair of light jeans and a loose top, he quickly undressed and slipped the shirt on, making sure his bump wasn’t too obvious, seeing as they hadn’t announced anything yet. Dragging the pants on, Roger went to do them up, but the zipper wouldn’t budge. The button wouldn’t close.

“Fucks sake,” Roger cursed under his breath, frustration building as he desperately tried to close the jeans. Sucking in, lying down, he tried everything, but the stupid jeans would not zip up or button.

Tears sprang to his eyes as he sat down on the bed, defeated by a pair of fucking jeans.

That’s when Brian came in, finding his boyfriend sitting crying on their bed, frantically trying to fit into his pants.

“Rog?” he questioned, tilting Roger’s chin up so he could look at him.

The blond boy sniffed, wiping his eyes on Brian’s shirt. “My fucking jeans won’t do up.”

Brian smiled, chuckling a little. “Oh, that’s okay! Let’s just find a bigger size.”

Wrong move, Brian May.

Roger exploded, jumping up and throwing his arms into the air. “That’s it? Just find a bigger pair? Am I really that fat that I need the next size up?”

Brian jumped at the sudden noise increase. “No – I uh, didn’t mean it like that, my love, you are not fat!”

“Then why won’t this piece of shit zip?!” Roger sat back down on the bed and buried his head in his hands, crying heavily. “Why do I have to get so fucking huge and fat?”

A gentle hand found its way to Roger’s back, rubbing softly.

“Roger, you are _not_ fat. It is just the baby, okay? Don’t ever think that you are fat, you are beautiful.”

He shook his head, sniffing.

“Yes, you are, you are the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. And the fact that you are growing our baby is even more incredible.”

 Roger looked up at his boyfriend sitting next to him. He was smiling, still massaging his back with one hand. Wiping his eyes again, Roger nodded.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“But what are we going to do about my pants?”

Brian chuckled. “Um, if you don’t want to take them off, we could try the hair tie trick?”

“The hair tie trick?”

“Yeah!” Brian said, jumping up and searching their nightstand for a spare one before kneeling down in front of his boyfriend. They always had random hair ties littering the apartment, seeing as all four boys sported long hair and John had a braiding obsession. He looped the band around the metal button, through the hole and back on the button again, creating a stretchy link between the top of the jeans. “Now all you have to do is just cover it with your top, and no one will notice!”

Roger stood up, taking a look at the makeshift jean-expander in the mirror.

“Mr May, you are a genius!”

Brian grinned. “I know,” he said playfully.

The door opened, and Freddie popped his hair-sprayed head in.

“Are you two lovebirds ready yet?”

 

The four boys sat comfortably in their manager John Reid’s office, waiting for him to arrive. They had decided to address both important matters at hand in this meeting, the obvious album release, and finally informing him about Roger’s pregnancy.

Roger himself was very nervous, bouncing his knee and tapping his fingers. Some strange, dark part of his mind told him that he would get fired, that Reid wouldn’t want a pregnant person as one of the faces of Queen.

Taking a deep breath, Roger closed his eyes and gently rested one hand on his bump, grounding himself. As cheesy and cliché as it sounds, he knew everything would be okay.

 

And for the most part it was, John immediately congratulated them and offered his complete support on the matter, a huge relief to the whole band. And, he was also extremally proud of the album release, as it was already getting media attention. The press release was simple and quick, just a half hour interview with some reporters. Freddie, naturally, did most of the talking (it was his masterpiece), with Brian and Roger occasionally offering a comment, and John staying almost completely silent, except when asked about his own song. After having agreed with Reid that they wouldn’t announce Roger’s pregnancy until at least twenty weeks, they didn’t need to worry about it until half way through January next year. They had also decided to only do live shows up until the announcement, and had a few promo shows scheduled for the next month, including one on Christmas eve.

Agreeing to not waste any time, the four, accompanied by John Reid, decided to launch right in to practice.

 

That evening, they lay about the lounge, exhausted from their day, just mulling over everything together. Deciding he needed some tea, Roger hauled himself off the couch and into the kitchen, humming softly as his filled the kettle.

“Brian told me about this morning.”

Dropping the kettle into the sink, the blond boy jumped near out of his skin.

“Fuck sakes Deaky! Don’t sneak up on me!”

John chuckled, reaching over to grab the jug and fill it again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“I nearly pissed myself.”

“Well, Brian told me about your pants.”

Pausing his reach for a cup, Roger looked down, blushing. “Oh, right…”

“It’s okay, you know, its normal.”

Roger sat down at the breakfast bar, letting John take over the tea making. “I just didn’t think it would happen this soon.”

“You are fourteen weeks along Rog.”

“I know, I just…you know…”

The youngest boy nodded. “You are by no means fat, okay? And this just means we get to go shopping.”

Roger smiled weakly. “Isn’t that more of Fred’s department?”

“Well, he’s going on the Kenny Everett show tomorrow, and you spend far too much time with Brian, so I figured we could just spend the day together. I don’t see enough of you.”

It was Roger’s turn to laugh. “Well, Brian _is_ my boyfriend, but you are right. That is a fantastic idea.”

“Glad you think so.” John raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “Plus, we need to get you some more clothes, you cannot continue going around in…that.” He gestured to Roger’s orange pyjama pants and a stolen top of Brian’s.

Scoffing, Roger took his cup of tea and plopped back down on the couch in the living room where Freddie and Brian were absorbed in ironing out their upcoming set lists.

“Honestly though,” Roger said softly, “Thanks for thinking of me, John.”

He smiled, brushing a hand through his long brown hair. “It’s no problem. You have always been my favourite.”

To that, he got a sharp slap of the leg and a shout from Freddie, who had just tuned into their conversation.

“What is this? That’s a lie! I have always been your favourite!”

“Oh, go on then. You are all my favourite.”

Brian giggled. “Wow, I feel honoured.”

“Thanks for ruining our special moment, Fred!”


	16. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there may be a slight trigger warning for this one, it is only small and at the end, but be careful if you are triggered easily <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also - sorry about the delay! I hope you enjoy this chapter none the less!

Shopping had never been Roger’s favourite activity, and now even less that his back was getting sorer, but it was lovely to finally spend some quality time with John. Between their busy recording schedule, Roger’s dreadful nausea (that had finally gone away – thank god) and their fast-paced lives, the pair had barely seen each other. Plus, John had promised some greasy shopping centre food as a treat.

The pair shuffled around the maternity stores awkwardly, not wanting to be recognised and feeling slightly out of place among all the other women and women’s clothing. It wasn’t until they reached the considerably smaller male maternity section of one of the stores that the boys relaxed.

“How about this?” John giggled, holding up a huge yellow printed blouse.

“Never in the name of god would I wear that.” Roger flicked through the small racks, stoking the soft fabrics with his fingertips.

“Aw, come on! It’s cute!”

The blond chuckled, popping a few neutral shirts into his basket.

“What about these?” John held a pair of soft light blue jeans with an even softer wide stretchy waist band.

Roger smiled, touching the smooth, light material. “They are amazing!”

“I thought they were like you favourites, just a bit better for your body now.”

“You really are the sweetest.”

“I know,” he joked, thumbing through the clothes before pulling out another hideous shirt.

“But you are definitely the worst shopping partner,” Roger replied, throwing a look of mock disgust to the shirt John was modelling. 

 

After another hour or two of shopping and trying the clothes on, both boys were tired and hungry.

“Will Fred still be on the radio when we get back?” Roger asked, chomping on his fries. God, whoever invented deep fried potatoes, he wanted to marry them.

John nodded, licking a bit of sauce from his lip that had escaped his mouth. “Probably. You know how he bangs on.”

Roger chuckled, gently patting his stomach. The doctor said that he might start feeling the baby move soon, just inside his belly, only fluttering, but it was still very exciting.

Gathering their bags (John insisting on carry the heavy ones), they went home, taking the short walk back to their apartment as a form of trying to get Roger more active.

 

Bohemian Rhapsody had just finished playing when they turned on the radio and tuned into Kenny’s show, it made them positively swell with pride to hear their musical masterpiece played on air.

“And that, dear listeners, was ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’! Queen’s newest hit single,” Kenny Everett, host of the obviously named Kenny Everett show said, rolling the ‘R’ dramatically. “What can you tell us about the song, Freddie?”

“Well, I don’t want to give too much away darling, true poetry is for the listener.”

Both boys beamed at each other, positively glowing with pride for their best friend.

Turning the volume of the radio up high, the pair made themselves comfortable in the living room, listening to Freddie’s hilarious interactions with Kenny.

After a few minutes of discussing the music, Kenny steered the conversation towards the band.

“Now Freddie, there have been a lot of rumours going around,” Kenny stated.

They heard him chuckled and the clink of a glass. “What rumours? I started about six this morning myself.”

Kenny laughed. “How is Roger? We haven’t seen much of his hansom face lately.”

Next to John, Roger tensed up.

Freddie paused for a moment, how Roger wished he could see his face.

“Well, you know…he’s fine!”

“But the fans think otherwise!” Kenny said in his jolly voice, only making Roger more nervous for what they might say. “He has changed…including his appearance, and the fans want to know why.”

“Oh, well,” They heard Freddie say, almost brushing the question off. “A few pounds here and there don’t really matter do they? He’s still our Rog and he is just going through something.”

Roger balled up his fists, shaking with tension and anger. He stood up and turned off the radio.

“Rog, I’m sure he didn’t mean –”

The small man exploded. “Of course he meant it! He thinks I’m fat, for gods’ sakes even the fans have noticed!”

John stood back, alarmed at the sudden outburst.

“How could he? In front of probably thousands of listeners!”

“But he said your appearance didn’t matter –”

“It does matter! I’m known for being the pretty one! I’m known for being skinny and always wearing tight clothes and now I can’t! Now I’m just a fat, bloated piece of shit who can’t even zip up their jeans! ‘Just going through something’, I’m pregnant for fucks sake! Not going through some teen emo phase!”

John let him storm away, knowing he needed time to cool off. God, did he pray for Freddie when he got back.

 

When Brian got home from volunteering at the local animal shelter, John warned him about his touchy boyfriend. Quietly going into their bedroom to offer his support and only getting a rough ‘fuck off’ certainly made him learn to listen to John. And then Freddie finally came home.

John and Brian sat wordlessly in the kitchen, sipping mugs of tea, listening to the muffled yelling and glass-smashing happening through the wall. Curse words peppered Roger’s angry outpour, some of which too ghastly to even list. It was highly amusing to the two band members not involved.

“How on earth have they managed to stay friends for so long?” Brian asked quietly as they heard the third glass object being broken. John just shrugged, contemplating the same question.

And then, everything fell silent.

“Either they’ve killed each other, or made up,” John said, swirling his mug.

The pair emerged from the bedroom, Roger still looking slightly disgruntled and Freddie positively beaming.

“He forgave me!” The dark-haired man sung, pirouetting around the small kitchen.

“Yeah, but I can still un-forgive you if you annoy me.”

“I’ll order some take away, that way you’ll forgive me good and proper, won’t you darling?”

 

That night, after their totally healthy Mexican take-away, the four cuddled up on the sofas to watch tv. But Roger didn’t feel quite right. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, earning a concerned look from Brian.

“You alright?”

Roger looked over and grimaced. “I feel a bit sick.” To be honest, there were these strange cramps in his belly, sort of like the ones he had at the beginning of his pregnancy, when the doctor had told him his womb was stretching to accommodate the baby. It was probably just them again.

“I have cramps.”

“Oh, my love, I’m sorry. It’s probably just the food.”

Roger nodded, trying to turn his attention back to the television. After a few minutes of attempted interest, he decided he was too uncomfortable squashed up on the couch.

“I don’t feel too good, so I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” he mumbled, untangling himself from Brian and getting up. Just as he was about to walk away, there was a huge gasp from behind him.

“R-Rog,” Brian stuttered, eyes locked on the blond’s lower half. “Blood!”

Quick as a flash, he looked down and sure enough, a small patch of blood stained the crotch of his pyjama pants, a little spot of it on the couch.

“Fuck! Rog! The baby!”

“It’s okay, everything is going to be okay, Freddie call an ambulance, Rog, sit down.”

He couldn’t even speak.

The baby the baby the baby. Dying. The baby dying. Blood. Ambulance. The baby the baby the baby. His baby. Going. Gone.

The floor seemed to be growing nearer. The world was closing in. Darkness.


	17. Oceans

The ocean is deep, averaging over twelve thousand feet in depth. There are over four hundred thousand undiscovered species down there. Seventy percent of earth is covered by the sea.

 

The ocean he was in felt warm and calm. He felt safe and secure, all the sounds were muffled, and the light was dark. Only a few blurry rays of sunshine penetrated the surface. If he could, he would stay down there forever, but something was tugging him to the surface. A pale oval surrounded by dark fluff swam before his eyes, fuzzy and unfocused.

 

Then reality snapped into place, and a torrent of harsh realisation crashed into his mind.

The baby. The blood.

Brian’s face was hovering inches above his, his mouth was moving but Roger could hear no sound. It was like the river colliding around his brain had filled his ears with pounding thoughts, putting the world on mute.

“…the ambulance is on the way, darling…”

“…everything will be okay…”

“…hang in there…”

 He felt his body being gently tugged into a sitting position, then the ocean drained.

“Did you hear that Roger?” John asked from the side of the room, the telephone pressed to his ear.

The blond nodded. An ambulance was coming. For him.

For their baby.

“B…Brian,” Roger said slowly, brain so clear but so foggy. “The baby.”

A few tears slipped out of Brian’s big hazel eyes. “I know. But everything is going to be fine, alright? They will be fine. They _are_ fine.”

“The paramedics are here.” John hung up the phone and quickly followed Freddie to the door where two men dressed in white strode in, carrying a stretcher.

This all felt too much. He didn’t need a stretcher. Or an ambulance. He just wanted to go to bed.

But the baby.

Oh god. The baby. Then he properly recalled the blood, remembered the gasp, the petrified look on his friend’s faces. Their baby could very well be…it was unbearable. He wanted to kick and scream, cry, do anything to make sure his child was okay, not just lie there and let himself bleed.

 

The ambulance sirens were quieter from inside the van, Roger clutched desperately to Brian’s hand, the other resting on his baby bump, just holding on to what little hope he had left. Tears rushed down his cheeks, like a rainstorm raging heavily from his eyes. He was quivering head to toe, so indescribably afraid.

“R-Roger,” Brian started shakily through his own silent tears. “We were okay before, we _will_ be okay now. We were happy before, we _can_ be happy now.”

Roger let out a cry, a noise of a wounded animal. He felt like someone had reached into his soul and ripped a piece out.

“But our baby…”

“I know, my love, I – I know.”

 

Burning scents of disinfectant and death filled his nose as they wheeled him into the stark white hospital, Brian still holding his hand tight. They went straight to the emergency department and into a small room, where they were told a doctor was on their way to see them.

“Freddie and John are just in the waiting room, my love,” Brian said, messily wiping his tears and then Roger’s. “We are okay.”

 

The doctor was a young woman, who quickly went over Roger’s vitals, and then instructed him to raise his shirt so they could do an ultrasound.

“Please,” Roger said with so much raw emotion, it almost brought on a fresh wave of tears, “Please tell me straight away if you find a heartbeat.”

She nodded, promising the distraught couple that she would.

The gel was cold on his round stomach, but that was the very last thing on his mind. Both boy’s eyes were transfixed on the small screen.

And then…

_Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump_

“That’s a heartbeat,” The doctor said, grinning at the pair.

Relief flooded their veins. It was indescribable. Happiness, sadness, joy, relief, ecstasy, every single emotion under the sun was coursing through Roger’s body.

Tears poured down their cheeks. Brian instantly pulled Roger into the tightest hug, warmest hug.

Kissing his head gently, he whispered “It’s okay, my love, they are okay!”

They pulled away, Brian with a little ultrasound gel on his shirt, smiling their biggest smiles through the onslaught of the happiest tears.

Their fuzzy little baby was fine, healthy even. The pair could even see them flailing their arms a little on the ultrasound picture. They were very much alive.

“Everything seems to be fine, Mr Taylor and Mr May,” said the doctor, whose name they learned was Lucy. “We most likely won’t know what caused the bleeding, but the baby is perfectly fine. I suspect a sub-chorionic haemorrhage, which just means a little bit of blood formed between the placenta and the uterus and that’s what came out.”

Roger let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, hand still firmly on his tummy. He had no idea what this sub-chorionic-whatever was but that didn’t matter, his child was okay.

“You probably fainted because you went into shock.”

He let out a hysterical laugh, probably looking like a maniac cackling away but he didn’t care. The baby was okay and that was all that mattered.

Suddenly, the door to the small enclosed ward bust open and Freddie and John tumbled in, faces painted with grief and worry.

“R-Roger, are they okay? Are you alright?”

The blond opened his arms and enveloped both men in a hug. “Yes,” he choked out. “They are fine! The baby is fine!”

“Oh thank god,” Freddie cried, reaching over and pulling Brian into their embrace.

“We were going to wait, but…” John trailed off, wiping his tears on Freddie’s sleeve. “We couldn’t. We couldn’t just sit there, you know?”

Lucy cleared her throat. “Well boys, I can confidently say that the foetus is completely healthy, very strong and a great size for fourteen weeks is it? Great. Now, if you have any more bleeding or stomach pain, come straight to the hospital, but other than that, you are free to go home.”

“Wonderful, thank you so, so much,” Brian gushed, shaking her hand vigorously, before passing her over to Freddie, John and Roger for more frantic hand shaking and even a hug.

After a final round of happy thanks, she left, leaving the four alone.

“Fucking hell,” Roger said, running his hands through his messy hair. “What a fantastic way to spice up our night!”

“Trust you, Roger, god!” Freddie said playfully, but still extremally stressed from the entire ordeal, his own hand on Roger’s bump.

“I don’t know about you,” John started, leaning on the back of the gurney Roger and Freddie were sitting on, “But I am so tired.”

Stifling a yawn, the blond nodded. “Yeah, let’s get out of the grotty place.”

Brian laughed, wrapping an arm around his lover’s waist, supporting him all the way to the car.

 

Once safely strapped into the passenger seat, Roger looked down, cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry for scaring everyone.”

“Don’t apologise darling!”

“It was not your fault, Rog,” John said, leaning forward to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m just glad everything turned out fine.”

“Me too, oh my god,” Brian said with a sigh, his heart still stopping every time he thought about what could have happened.

“You’ve really had the worst luck, Rog,” Freddie said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, let’s keep our fingers bloody crossed that nothing else goes wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey if anyone has any ideas/baby names please leave them in the comments it would be much appreciated <3


	18. Fluttering

It was just three days until Christmas, and boy where they in the mood. Well, Freddie was, insisting that they have the ‘best Christmas ever’. He had dragged Roger along to buy the tree, forced Brian to help him decorate it because he could reach the top, and had now made john come shopping with him so they could get presents and purchase all the food for the Christmas dinner.

 

He was lying on the bed when the doorbell rang, just stroking his seventeen weeks along belly and trying to rest a little after being up all night with heartburn. He felt this fluttering, a sort of rolling feeling in his stomach, something that could only be the baby. He grinned, running his hand up and down his bump. He felt calm, so glad that he could finally feel them, it just cemented the notion that they were safe and well.

 

There was some soft chatter coming from the hall, the person at the door must have come inside.

 

“Rog?” It was Brian calling him from the kitchen, probably. Freddie and John wouldn’t have rung the door bell, so someone else was in the house with them. Someone who must have wanted to see roger.

“Yeah?”

“Can you come out here for a sec?”

Grumbling under his breath, the blond hauled himself off the bed, standing a little unsteadily as his centre of gravity was a bit off.

He pulled his soft blue dressing gown over his pyjamas and walked out of the bedroom, stepping over the collection of shoes in the hallway and wandering out into the kitchen.

Brian was sitting at the kitchen table with a pot of tea and three mugs in front of him, and opposite sat Roger’s mother.

Oh.

“Roger?” Her voice was soft and gentle, driving a stick of guilt into his heart. He hadn’t even called her in the past four months.

“Mum?”

She got up, brushing her matching wavy blond hair off her shoulder and opening her arms, wrapping her son in a hug. She was grinning when they pulled away, but roger could see how tired she looked.

“I’m so sorry for not calling,” Roger said shamefully, sitting down next to her.

She shook her head, brushing a hand over his. “It’s okay, honey. I know you’re busy. I was just passing through.”

“We are so glad you stopped by, Ms Taylor,” Brian interjected, throwing a cautious look at his boyfriend. Oh, that was another thing Roger’s mum didn’t know.

She smiled again. “Please, just call me Winifred. Anyway, how have you two been? I’m so glad to see you finally putting some meat on your bones, son. The new album is really good!”

Roger lit up, blushing slightly at her comment on his body. “You bought it?”

“Of course! You both have incredible voices.”

“Thank you,” Brian said softly, blushing. He looked at roger again, silently asking if this was a good time. “Um, we actually have something to tell you.”

She looked up from her tea and raised an eyebrow.

“Mum,” Roger started, feeling a nervous knot twist in his stomach. “Brian and I…”

Winifred laughed, swirling her cup. “I guessed, honey. I’m happy for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes! And it’s about damn time too! I knew you two would end up together ages ago.”

Brian chuckled softly. “Thanks, Winifred.”

“But mum, that’s not all, I guess.”

She looked at her son curiously. “What do you mean?”

Roger took a deep breath and reached for Brian’s hand across the table. “Mum,” he started, averting his eyes. “I’m having a baby.”

Silence.

Roger continued looking down at the scuffed wooden table instead of his mother, keen to avoid her shocked, or even disappointed stare.

And then he felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Roger, congratulations!”

His head snapped up, eyes met with a huge grin from his mother.

“I’m going to be a grandmother! This is incredible, honey! What a fantastic Christmas present!”

Brian gave his hand a tight squeeze. “I’m so glad you are okay with it, Winifred.”

“Okay with it? I’m over the moon! How far along are you?” She asked, directing her attention to her blushing son.

They sat at the kitchen table for a good half hour, the couple spilling everything that had happened since roger had fallen pregnant. It felt so good to know that they now had a full support system; Freddie, John, Brian’s parents and now Roger’s mum too. As she was leaving, she promised to send down Roger’s old baby stuff.

 

“That was nice,” Brian hummed when they closed the front door. “Fred is not going to be happy that he missed her.”

Roger laughed, resting his head on the tall man’s chest. “I felt them move today.” He felt Brian straighten up, looking up to see his gaping mouth.

“Rog! Oh my god!” swiftly getting down on his knees, Brian pulled up Roger’s shirt and placed his big hands on roger’s swollen middle.

“You won’t feel anything.”

Brian looked up and pouted. “I know, but still! What does it feel like?”

Roger sighed as Brian stood up and sat down on the couch and patting his lap for Roger to climb into.

“It feels like when you have butterflies in your stomach, kind of like when you are nervous, and your tummy does a flip.”

“Wow,” Brian breathed. “That’s so cool!”

 

Later that night, after Roger and John had gone to bed, Freddie and Brian were sitting in the lounge. They were sat in front of the tv, neither of them really watching the shitty rom-com that was on.

“Hey,” Freddie half whispered. ‘Let’s throw a party after Christmas.”

Brian chuckled. “For what?”

“You and Rog! For the baby!”

The curly haired man laughed again.

“No seriously! Like a new years-baby party, it’d be so fun!”

“Uh-huh, sure, Fred.”

“Come on Bri! We haven’t had a proper party in ages! And we’d invite loads of people, our parents, Tim, John, everyone! You could announce the baby then! It could be kind of like a baby shower but massive! And we could do speeches, we’d have loads of food, no booze of course, and-”

“Okay,” Brian interrupted, getting up from the sofa. “You talk to Rog, and if he wants to, then let’s do it.”

Freddie grinned. “I’ll organise it, neither of you will have to lift a finger!”

 

To his surprise, on raising the idea the next morning, Roger said yes, even agreeing to help plan it. The pair spent the rest of their day off from recording asking John Reid if they could, creating menus, ringing caterers and curating guest lists from here to the door.

 

Meanwhile, Brian had told John what he was going to do at this party, and they had gone into town and fought with the other million last minute Christmas shoppers to get the special thing he needed.

What an odd break from recording this had been.


	19. Parties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow sorry for not updating! I was so unmotivated until now, so please enjoy this chapter! It's a bit longer than usual to make up for lost time <3

Christmas was extremally relaxing. The four consistently took it upon themselves to do as little as possible on that special holiday, so it would serve as a necessary break from the constant stress of studio album recording. Apart from the present opening of course, when Freddie would make sure everyone was involved and active in the festivities.

Waking at a sensible hour (Drastically different that their last Christmas, where Freddie had dragged everyone out of bed at no earlier than seven a.m.), the four had a lazy morning, opening gifts and sharing laughter. Brian got John a lovely selection of dark picks for his bass, after commenting on the youngest member’s bloodied and torn fingers after a show. He burst into hysterical giggles when he opened his combined gift from Freddie and Roger, a bright pink sweater with the words ‘bassists do it deeper’ printed of the front. In turn, Freddie couldn’t hold back his delighted squeal at the sparkly silver converse trainers from Roger, so now the pair could be matching. Freddie also received a new art sketch book from Brian, and a pair of outrageous, Elton John style sunglasses. Brian had insisted on no gifts, but still received an astrophysics book from Freddie, a long white scarf from John and the most beautiful photo album from Roger. Adorable, memory evoking photo littered every page, accompanied by Roger’s untidy scrawl describing each situation.

“Oh, Rog, this is amazing!”

The blonde shrugged, running a hand through Brian’s hair from his position lounging on the couch. Brian sat in a sea of wrappings on the floor with the other two, flicking though the thick pages of the album. “Glad you like it.”

Brian turned to look at him and grinned widely, holding the book to his chest. “I love it!”

Photos of last Christmas, and all the Christmases before almost brought tears to his eyes. Photos from their first meeting, first gig, first flat together. Photos that made them a family. The last few pages were full of Roger’s pregnancy, including photos of his bump through the weeks, ultrasound photos and little scribbled notes on how he felt. There were even spaces left for upcoming photos they could add. It truly was the most thoughtful, well planned gift.

Freddie reached under the tree, pulling out the last three gifts. “Come on Roger darling, open your gifts!”

He groaned, sliding off the couch and onto the floor. “You know I’m not going to be able to get up again, right?”

John chuckled, taking the presents from Freddie and handing them to the drummer.

“Mine first!” Freddie sung, pointing at a rectangular package wrapped in gold paper.

Roger smiled and tore into the parcel, revealing a book.

“Hm, one hundred and one things to know before giving birth. Thanks, Fred.”

The singer blushed. “I thought it would be useful!”

“Lots of books this year, Fred,” Brian commented playfully.

Freddie’s eyebrows rose in mock offense. “They are great presents! I can return yours if you want!”

Brian chuckled, before pushing his present into Roger’s hands.

It was a set of drumsticks, they were made of a light wood, with a shimmering gold stripe down the sides.

“Oh wow,” Roger said in awe, feeling the smooth wood in his hands. “They are beautiful!”  
It was Brian’s turn to blush, a steady scarlet creeping up is neck.

John’s gift was four tiny baby sleep suits, each with its own unique embroidery on the front; ‘Daddy’s little drummer’, a black bass guitar, a microphone and one simply reading ‘Star Child’.

A single tear escaped Roger’s eye. Quickly swiping it away, he pulled the youngest into a warm hug.

“Thank you, all of you. These are so cute!”

“I couldn’t think of anything else to get you,” John mumbled, slightly embarrassed by his gift.

“I love them, they are the baby’s first clothes, you know.”

“They are beautiful John,” Brian added, lifting up the tiny outfits and inspecting them closer. “Especially the ‘star child’ one.”

Freddie scoffed. “No way, the mic one is obviously the best!”

 

The rest of Christmas day went by nicely. The boys shared a wonderful Christmas dinner cooked by Brian (Freddie insisting he helped by setting the table), opening Christmas crackers and roaring at the terrible jokes inside, each sporting a tacky paper crown askew on their heads. The dinner itself was delicious; a roast chicken as turkey was too expensive, roast carrots and potatoes and a vegetarian casserole with green beans and sprouts.

 

They spent the rest of the evening lounging in front of the television watching a shitty old Christmas film, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Well,” Freddie begun, pushing himself up in his seat. “You know what comes next.”

“Not more wine,” John groaned, setting down his empty glass.

The boys chuckled lightly.

“No,’ Freddie said, “The party!”

“Still insistent then, Fred?” Brian asked, one arm stroking Roger’s tight belly, the other slung lazily around the small blonde.

Freddie nodded profusely. “It’ll be fantastic, darling! I’ve got everything under control.”

And he sure did, with a to do list as long as his arm. He was certainly determined to make it the best party ever.

 

\---

 

Three weeks later, after a quiet new year spent at home, Freddie’s party rolled around.

The house was beautiful. Three stories of white painted brick, gorgeous balconies and huge windows towered over them. The gravelled path crunched under their feet as they approached the structure. The scent of pansies and winter cyclamen lingered on the brisk air. A faint trickling of water from one of the many fountains dotted around the spacious garden grounds provided a calming tone to the building excitement of the nearing party.

Entering the house itself, the four were greeted with a stunning entrance hall, complete with a huge winding marble staircase and ornate stain glass windows. The room Freddie had chosen for the actual soiree was the large dining room. It had floor to ceiling windows lining two walls, giving the impression that you were sitting in the surrounding garden. Many tables had already been set up, along with a food and drink area and a big dance floor (Especially for Deaky).  

“So,” Freddie begun, stepping out into the middle of the hall and doing a little spin. “What do you think?”

Brian grinned. “Oh, it’s wonderful!”

“You’ve outdone yourself again, Fred.”

“Yes, this is perfect!” Roger exclaimed, examining the flowers on a nearby table. “Maybe you should quit singing and become a party planner.”

Freddie chuckled, pleased with his endeavours. “Well, Reid helped me a bit too. He paid for it at least.” He paused, looking around again. “There is still quite a bit to do, so you can stay and help if you want or go exploring the village.”

“Yes! Village explore!” Roger shouted, grabbing Brian’s hand and, after a quick thanks and goodbye, dragged him out of the building.

Another benefit of the house Freddie had picked was that is was nestled into the gorgeous Kensington area, a place him and Roger knew very well.

“Do you think the market will still be there?” Roger asked Brian as they wandered down the winding streets hand in hand.

Brian nodded. “I’m sure I saw a sign for it on the way up here. Want to check it out?”

“Please can we!”

 

At least three hundred people had turned up to Freddie’s extremally well planned party. It was strict invite only, but god, had he invited a lot of people.

The music was pumping, people were dancing. Brian, Roger, Freddie and John were sitting at the head table, eating and drinking and watching the festivities and havoc they had created.

John Reid was seated a few spots down from the band, talking quietly to a few reporters Freddie had invited.

 

Unsurprisingly, Roger was all over Brian. It was the pent-up horniness and increased sex drive that was completely driving him insane. He was curled around his boyfriend, caressing his bare chest under his half-unbuttoned shirt, kissing his neck and twisting his fingers around his hair and thighs. Roger didn’t care in the slightest that reporters were taking photos, people were talking, he only cared about his gorgeous boyfriend and keeping it in his pants until they got home. They were announcing his pregnancy today for god’s sake! He didn’t need to be secretive or careful.

Actually, it was kind of a miracle that no one had guessed it earlier. It wasn’t like Roger was exactly the best at covering his growing bump. Tonight he had on a light grey button up shirt with most of the buttons undone, light blue maternity jeans and the most ridiculous rainbow suspenders, all of which barely concealed his pregnancy to an untrained eye.

When Brian did finally actually announce it, the entire hall burst into happy applause. Roger got up and cupped his belly, showing it off before giving Brian the biggest kiss, which just evoked more clapping and cheering.  A fantastic outcome.

But, Brian had more to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any guesses on what Brian has to say?


	20. Rings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delays! This one is quite short, there will be a longer update soon!

“In my mind,” Brian began, eyes flickering to Roger before back out to the cavernous hall, “There are eight wonders of our world.” He paused for a moment, setting down his champagne glass and running a hand through his hair.

“There are the great pyramids of Giza in Egypt, that must have taken _years_ of hard work and labour to build all that time ago. There are the hanging gardens of Babylon, described as an incredible engineering and as the most beautiful palace and gardens of the ancient world. A Greek sculptor created the statue of Zeus at Olympia in the year 435 B.C, and it is still in perfect condition to this day.” Brian stopped for a moment, glancing around at all the shining faces in front of him, and then around to his closest friends, feeling the deepest warmth in his heart.

“The Temple of Artemis is the fourth wonder, built in 6th century Greece, supposedly housing Zeus’ daughter. There is the Lighthouse of Alexandria, a one hundred metre tall structure that was destroyed by a series of earthquakes many, many years ago. The Colossus of Rhodes is the sixth, a statue of the Greek god of the sun, Helios in 292 B.C. And finally, the Tomb of Mausolus in the Persian empire of Turkey.” He stopped once more and took a deep breath.

“But I believe there is one more. I believe there is one more wonder of this world that is more beautiful than some hanging garden, that is more incredible than some lighthouse, that shines brighter than a statue of a sun-god. In my mind, there is something that tops that famous list, and that is you, Roger Taylor.”

The spacious dining room erupted into clapping and cheering again, making Brian blush, but not nearly as much as Roger himself. He was grinning from ear to ear.

“I love you so much,” Brian said of the noise. “You, along with our child, are the best things that have ever happened to me and I am so thankful for you.”

Tears were streaming down Roger’s face. Freddie looked like he was on the verge of crying too, and John looked so proud.

“I am so glad that our journey has brought us here. You have given me a gift no one else could. You have given me hope, and so much love. You light up even my darkest of days. Thank you so much, my darling Roger. So, I would like to say just one more thing.”

The curly haired giant stood back and quickly rummaged into his pocket, pulling out a small box. Roger choked out a gasp as Brian stepped down onto one knee.

This was the moment his life had been leading up to.

Brian took in a deep breath, gazing into Roger’s perfect blue eyes.

“Roger Taylor, you are the love of my life.”

All four were now either crying or struggling to hold back tears. The guests were watching on, smiling, whispering and crying, but they had all seemingly faded away. It was just them, in their perfect little bubble.

“Please, if you will do me the greatest honour, will you marry me?” Brian opened the box, revealing a beautiful gold ring with a gorgeous shining diamond in the centre.

Roger stood up, swaying slightly as he wiped away his tears. “Yes! Oh god, yes!” He finally choked out, nodding profusely.

Brian grinned, slipping the ring onto Roger’s dainty finger before standing up and pulling him into the tightest embrace and giving him a kiss that felt like it lasted for hours. This was where they were meant to be. Surround by friends, Freddie and John joining in the hug, their audience of acquaintances cheering and clapping along. This dysfunctional family had given them all a place. It had given them the love and happiness they could have only dreamed of.

It was perfect.

 

High on sugary drinks and love, the newly engaged couple left the party on cloud nine. They could barley keep their hands off each other on the cab ride home, Brian insisting that they be in their own bed much to Roger’s dismay. Brian walked them upstairs with Roger hanging off his waist, intoxicated on hormones and horniness for his mate. Swiftly picking him up, Brian carried Roger over the threshold of their apartment, carrying him to their bedroom, before laying him on the bed and unbuttoning the last remaining buttons that had managed to stay closed of both their shirts. Now you've got an imagination, go ahead and use it.


	21. Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! A longer chapter as promised! This is sort of just a bunch of little bits and pieces spanning over a few days, i hope you enjoy!

The cool mid-January air was cold and crisp in their lungs, a refreshing sensation after being trapped in a stuffy car for almost three hours. In fact, it was like heaven on earth to step out of that god forsaken vehicle and be able to walk around properly, not just to dash into the service station bathroom for a pee break every hour.

Brian had whisked Roger away for a little pre-wedding honeymoon, after deciding they would do all the proper marriage celebrations after the baby was born. So they had ended up here, at a tiny, sweet little lodge nestled into the snow-capped mountains. Snow was still falling dreamily, despite it being almost spring. The cabin was tucked in the opening of a forest, its huge dark trees looming above. It felt almost like a cave, protected and separate from the rest of the world.

A thin plume of smoke rose merrily out of the small brick chimney sitting atop the cabin, instantly washing the whole place with a cosy, comforting mist. It had just one storey, with quaint little windows with frilly dressings and a crunchy pebble path leading up to its bright red door.

Inside, the pair were met with a beautiful kitchen and lounge, fully equipped with new appliances, a tv and a huge couch perfect for cuddling. There was a small bathroom with a porcelain tub and a little laundry room leading to the yard. The master bedroom had its own ensuite and a massive bed clad in gorgeous dark red sheets, a stark contrast to the snow still settling around the windows.

“This place is beautiful,” Roger said, dropping his bag in the bedroom and following Brian back out to the warm living room.

Brian smiled. “Glad you like it.”

“It’s wonderful!” Roger exclaimed before reaching his arms above his head and stretching, causing all the bones in his back to crack alarmingly.

Brian cocked an eyebrow. “Do you want to go for a walk? Try to ease some of that tension?”

“Only if you’ll keep me company.”

 

They walked in silence, a comfortable quiet for a while, hand in hand down the wide winding path. The damp soil cushioned their footsteps, muffling their movement as if to amplify the forest’s natural sound. Small sparrows and wrens hopped amongst the tree branches, singing their winter song. Tiny flowers were raising their white heads in search for the last drops of sunlight. A cascading river could be heard nearby, its crashing and tumbling lessened by the woven tree barrier. Deep scents of earth, moss and undergrowth filled the air, opening their lungs, drawing the pair back to their roots. Back to their place in nature.

The forest has power. It will bring you back down to earth from your high place. It will alter your perception, untwist your views and reform your busy mind. It will clear your head, and clean your soul.

 

The pair stopped in a clearing, taking a seat on a nearby log. Roger breathed heavily, resting for a moment. Walking seemed so much harder now with this added weight. The baby kicked gently, not yet strong enough for the movements to feel like very much, but still they were determined to let their presence be known.

Brian sat next to him, letting Roger’s head fall onto his shoulder. Brian placed one hand on Roger’s bump, rubbing softly.

Then he froze. Roger felt him tense up underneath his head.

“You okay?” He asked, lifting his head up and looking at his shocked partner.

“The baby,” Brian said softly. “I can feel the baby!” 

Roger gasped, grabbing Brian’s hand and guiding it to the spot his child was kicking the most.

A huge smile split across Brian’s face. ‘Rog…this is amazing! She’s really in there!”

Roger chuckled. “She?”

Brian nodded, bending down and kissing Roger’s now medium sized bump. “I still think its going to be a girl.”

“You might be right, but so might Fred.”

Brian laughed, snaking one arm around his fiancée, the other hand still on Roger’s tummy. “God, I hope it’s a girl, Fred would be a nightmare if he got it right.”

“A little boy would be lovely, with nice curly black hair and big brown eyes.”

“So would a little girl, but she would look exactly like you, big temper and all.”

“Hey!” Roger gave Brian a little shove. “I hope not. No one wants a cranky newborn.”

Brian smiled at the prospect of actually having a newborn baby. “I wouldn’t mind. It’d be our cranky newborn.”

“Right you are, our newborn.”

“Our baby.”

“Our baby, who will be here in less than five months.”

“Oh lord…” Brian rubbed his face with his hands. “We aren’t prepared at all.”

Roger sighed. “No, but we still have ages.” He paused for a second, then laughed. “And Freddie’s book to read, I’m sure that’d get us ready.”

Brian grinned, standing up and stretching. “Oh yeah, can’t go wrong if we know one hundred and one things.”

 

After dinner, Brian re-lit the fire and joined Roger on the couch, putting on a movie. They lay there, Roger’s back snug to Brian’s chest, hand over hand atop Roger’s belly for the next few hours. Brian couldn’t help but think how lucky he was. How blessed he must be to have this in his life. Just the right amount of fame, the man of his dreams, and even a baby on the way. A real, human baby. It hadn’t quite occurred to him that he would actually become a father until that very moment. There really was a baby nestled in Roger’s stomach, that would soon come out one way or another, and be theirs. That little, invisible person is their son or daughter. A real person who would grow, learn, and love. Someone who would one day have their own children.

He realised this in just one moment, his brain finally clicking into place. This was just the beginning to the journey that would last the rest of his lifetime.

 

\----

 

After their magical weekend away, the boys returned home to their other half.

“Darlings! How I’ve missed you!” Freddie shouted as they walked inside, bundling them both up in a squishy hug. “Did you have a good time?”

“Of course,” Roger answered, hugging John and leaving his bag in the hallway.

“Plenty of sex I assume?”

Brian chuckled. “It’s nice to see you too, John.”

“That’s a yes then?”

Roger plonked himself down on the couch, grinning. “Yes John, lots. It’s getting harder and harder because of this,” Roger poked his belly, “But we manage,” He finished with a cheeky smirk.

Freddie waltzed back into the living room with a tray of tea and biscuits. “Oh, Roger darling, we had our first bit of baby press the day after you left.” He fished a scrap of newsprint out of his pocket, handing it to the blonde.

‘Queen’s infamous drummer Roger Taylor PREGNANT and set to be MARRIED’ read the headline in bright, bold letters. The rest of the article blabbered on about the big party, the announcement, a few criticisms on the band and Roger’s age and even Brian’s choice of ring.

“Its all just tat, really,” Roger said, tossing the article to Brian. “They can say what they like about how young I am, doesn’t fuss me. This baby’s coming no matter what they say.”

“I thought my ring was great,” Brian frowned.

“So did I, I basically picked it out for you!” John piped up.

“I’m sure there is going to be more stuff like this,” Freddie said. “Worse stuff too, but we can’t let it affect us.”

“Agreed,” Roger said, reaching for a biscuit.

The press were always looking for more dirt to blow out of proportion. The music press especially, but this was nothing. It was actually quite fun to read all the rumours; is Roger having triplets? Is the actual queen going to their wedding? Is this all some sort of way of promoting their new album? Is this all fake and some sort of massive coverup???

“Can you imagine if this was all just some sort of marketing ploy?” John said, chuckling at the stupidity.

Roger laughed, “Oi Brian, knock me up, it’ll be good promotion for the album!”

They all fell about laughing. As much as romantic weekends away were lovely, this was their real home.

 

\----

 

It felt like the world had decided that Roger’s good fortune was up. He lay uncomfortably on his side, staring at the wall, breathing fast out of anger. God, let him sleep. The baby certainly didn’t want to. They were practicing their tumbling skills inside his belly, kicking his organs, occasionally his bladder just for good measure. He sat up, frustrated and needing to pee _again_. Christ.

He tiptoed to the bathroom and back quietly, not bothering to turn any lights on. His eyes were well and truly adjusted to the dark after laying awake for most of the night.

A door creaked, sending his heart pounding. Turning quickly, he saw someone coming out of the other bedroom.

“Rog?”

It was Freddie, looming out of the semi darkness.

“Jesus Fred, I thought someone had broken in.”

“Sorry.” Roger could just make out his friend grinning. “Can’t sleep?”

“Evidently.”

Freddie tiptoed into the lounge, beckoning Roger in before closing the door and turning on the lamp. “Wanna play some scrabble?”

Roger laughed, lowering himself onto a cushion on the floor as Freddie set out their worn scrabble board. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Not really. Plus, you were keeping me up.”

“I’m sorry,” Roger said, setting down a few of his tiles. “I don’t think I’ve slept through the night in four months.”

Freddie clicked his tongue sympathetically. “You poor thing.”

The blonde shrugged. “It’s alright, I don’t mind all that much. Its all part of the package, right?” He said, rubbing his bump slowly. The baby kicked at his hand, sending his heart aflutter. “Hey, do you want to feel them kicking?”

Freddie gasped, scrambling over the board. “I can feel them?!”

Roger nodded, guiding his hand to the right spot. Freddie’s mouth gaped open as he felt a tiny prod to his palm.

“They’re really in there, huh?”

Nodding again, Roger moved Freddie’s hand to follow the baby’s movement.

“This is magical,” Freddie said softly.

Then the baby stopped, rolling one last time before seemingly settling.

“I think we’ve put them to sleep,” Roger whispered.

Freddie chuckled, withdrawing his hands and resuming the game. “Have you thought of any names yet?”

“Nope,” Roger shook his head. It was a question he had pondered a lot in the past months, but no name he had thought of felt right. The name either belonged to someone else he knew or just didn’t feel special enough for their little miracle.

“What about ‘Frederick’? Its nice and classical, but still relevant and cool.”

Roger laughed. “Oh of course! How did I not think of that?” He joked.

“You may joke, but when that little boy comes and you still don’t have a name you’ll thank me for giving them mine.”

“Still think its going to be a boy? Brian is set on girl.”

Freddie scoffed, tucking his hair behind his ears. “Well he’s clearly an idiot.”

“He is the father of the baby.”

“Correct, but let’s hope that baby doesn’t inherit his idiocy,” Freddie said, raising an eyebrow. “Do you think you will find out the gender before the birth?”

Roger frowned, thinking for a moment. “No, I don’t think I will. I’d quite like a surprise. Plus, its quite entertaining to watch the three of you fight over the sex.”

Freddie nodded, chuckling softly before placing his last scrabble tile. “Look! I win!”

“You are such a cheater!”

 

When Brian awoke the nest morning, the bed was empty. Wandering out into the lounge, he found Roger curled up on the couch, and Freddie sprawled on the floor, both soundly asleep beside a discarded scrabble game. What strange company he kept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Also, would anyone want more angst? These last few chapters have been basically pure fluff.  
> Give me those baby names! I've decided on the gender but not a name yet. Lastly, does anyone have anything they'd like to see/requests for future chapters? Thank you so much for supporting this story!


	22. Paintings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Brian Chapter!

Building furniture had never been one of Brian’s strong points. Especially when no one else was in the house to help him and most of Ikea’s furniture instructions were just pictures or in Swedish. And, each piece looked almost identical.

He had made the grave mistake of taking everything out of the flatpack box and laying it out on the living room floor. Firstly, half the pieces had now seemingly gone missing; and secondly, once the beast was finally constructed, he would have the task of moving a crib into his bedroom without any assistance.

But, it had to be done.

Well actually, it didn’t really need doing for at least another month or two but he really didn’t want Roger’s threat of a cut-off dick to become true if he didn’t do it today.

Surely it couldn’t be that hard. People all over the world have been building this flatpack nonsense for years! A little screw in here, a nail in there…a whole piece disappearing and another put in fucking upside down!

He had studied astrophysics. A little cot wasn’t going to fool him.

Brian sighed deeply, consulting the little booklet of gibberish once more. Setting it down and running his hands through his mess of frizz he set back to work.

And finally, after another two hours of mistakes, a fully formed cot stood in the lounge.

It looked a lot bigger than it needed to be, Brian thought as he looked at his masterpiece. It really was massive. The cot had a warm, light wooden frame and a plush mattress raised up so as to be easier to reach the little thing that would soon be sleeping in it. He really was going to be a dad.

The change table could wait until tomorrow.

 

Roger, Freddie and John had all gone shopping for more clothes for Roger and some baby bits, so after a quick lunch Brian decided to express himself through something other than badly putting together furniture.

The roof of their building certainly had the best views. He went up there sometimes, to clear his head. This time he brought some of Freddie’s paints and a few spare canvases, setting them out across the hard concrete hoping they didn’t blow away.

A few words, or lines perhaps, had been circling around his mind for a while now. A little snippet of poetry his mind had created somewhere, somehow. Something he thought was lovely, but did not yet fit anywhere.

But it would fit here.

He gently washed the first canvas in a lovely light, dusky pink, marbling the white in with the red; mixing it but not quite blending it perfectly. The next would be blue; a nice pale tone but with a little silver running through like a precious gemstone. The third canvas he painted with light purple, a violet-y colour with a blue base, the perfect mix of the two other canvases. And the last was to be yellow, soft and muted with blends of the lightest orange.

He sat the three paintings against one of the roof’s railings so they would catch the sun and dry faster. Brian leaned back on his elbow, his other hand shielding his eyes from the sun. England had just started to lose its cold bite, so this non-icy breeze was lovely for early February. 

The sun, despite being still small, was very bright. The clouds weren’t nearly as interesting as the stars. Gosh, he should have done this at night. There was something so elusive about the inky blackness of the night sky. The velvet blanket stretched out above us, filled with tiny pinpricks of silver thread, laced in intricate patterns. It is as if someone had stitched this whole universe together for us. The gods before us returned to the atmosphere above, weaving themselves into our cosmos through constellations. Everything about the nights sky was simply fascinating.

Once the canvases had dried and Brian had pulled himself out of his daydream, or more appropriately nightdreaming, he found a tiny brush a set to work with more of Freddie’s lovely silver paint. This time it was words, those lines that were floating around his head. A line for each canvas.

_Take heart my friend we love you_

_Though it seems like you're alone_

_A million light's above you_

_Smile down upon your home_

This baby deserved his best words. His best art. They deserved to have love shine down upon them, and this is what the canvases were for. To show their little miracle that they were really the most loved. He wanted his child to know that they would always be there, that even the stars above loved them.

Maybe those words would become a song, written just for their baby. Their baby who was still so long away. The thought of actually getting to lay their newborn baby down in the freshly constructed crib he made sent his heart aflutter. Thinking that the baby safely nestled in Roger’s stomach would actually come out, that he would actually be able to hold them made _his_ stomach drop.

There was still so much he needed to learn! He didn’t know how to hold a baby properly! He didn’t know how to feed one, change one, make them stop crying! Brian swiftly grabbed the now dry canvases and the paints and went back to the apartment, dumping everything in the lounge and scuttling to the phone in the kitchen. Thumbing through the phonebook and even a few leaflets Doctor Simmons had given them, Brian found what he was looking for. Parenting and birth classes. Oh yes, this is what they needed. Brian was sure even Freddie would want to come along, he knew how much Fred would get a kick out of seeing them try to deal with even a plastic doll. Best book a few more classes.

There was still so much to discuss! Brian and Roger had yet to talk about Roger’s birth plan. He was still avid about the natural birth idea, but they hadn’t discussed where and what insurance plans they should put in place if something went wrong. He didn’t know where his partner stood with pain medication, or even if he wanted him there, let alone Freddie and John. Rationally, Brian knew that they still had at least twelve weeks to talk about it, but irrationally the weeks felt like they were dwindling fast! Gosh, they really needed some good kitchen table, note-taking discussion time, and soon. They hadn’t had any check-ups since the twenty week one, where they got to see _and_ feel the baby kick; and the baby was apparently the size of a sweet potato. Roger was officially banned from playing the drums until they were born, because of potential hearing damage to the baby’s ears, which did upset him *just* a little.

A key turned in the front door, dragging Brian out of his thoughts. Freddie flounced in, waving bags and shouting to Brian down the hall. John entered, taking off his coat and hanging it up like a responsible adult. And finally Roger walked in to the living room, kicking his shoes off his swollen feet and arching his back before flopping down on the sofa next to Brian.

“I don’t ever want to do that again.”

Freddie scoffed. “You loved it! And we got some great stuff!”

Roger leant forward and put his head in his hands. “He made me buy a fluorescent orange baby onesie that said ‘My daddy’s a rock star’.”

“Very classy, isn’t it?” John said, fishing through one of the bags and dragging out the traffic cone looking thing.

“Wow,” Brian said sarcastically. “We are going to have one cool looking baby.”

“Of course you are, darling!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked writing this chapter! It might be my favorite, despite not a whole lot happening. Let me know what you thought!


	23. Baths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait! I hope you still enjoy

Roger huffed angrily, rolling onto his other side, eyes wide open staring at the wall. He was in for yet another sleepless night. Brian was snoring softly next to him, his long arms slung gently around Roger’s waist. The baby wasn’t even particularly active, he was just hyper conscious of their every movement. Especially when they decided to settle right on his bladder. Quickly untwisting himself from Brian’s hold, he got up and went to the bathroom, again. Frequent toilet breaks seemed to have become a running theme of this pregnancy.

 

The house felt completely different at night, it was like a stranger’s home, not his. The long windows at the end of the hall cast silver shadows that danced across the floor, shimmering and glittering in the moonlight. Every creak of a door sent shivers down his spine.

 

He washed his hands and ran his rough fingers though his hair, staring into the mirror. Wow, he looked like shit. Blonde tatters were scattered all over his forehead, sticking up on all ends, knotted and dirty. He had huge dark circles around his eyes, closely resembling a pregnant raccoon. The baby rolled lazily in his tummy, giving his palm a gentle kick. They seemed to be on a completely different sleep schedule to the rest of the world. Roger looked away from his reflection. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed that his looks and body had changed. Yes, having a baby is such a wonderful, special time in one’s life, but Roger still felt a little upset. What if his body didn’t just ‘bounce back’ like other mothers? He had never struggled with body dysmorphia or not liking how he looked. Roger had, for the most part, always regarded himself as good looking. It seemed extremally vain, but it was true. He hadn’t had any trouble getting the pretty girl (or guy) at the end of the bar to come home with him. One bat of those long lashes always sent the threat of a speeding ticket away. He was a renowned sex symbol for god’s sake! All he wanted to know was when this promised pregnancy glow was going to come in.

 

Roger turned to walk back to his bedroom, trying to brush off these selfish thoughts. He got two steps down the hall and the air was knocked out of his already strained lungs. A deep, shooting pain burst through his hips and whole lower body, stopping him in his tracks. It felt as if someone had driven a chainsaw straight through his hips and pelvic bone. Roger stumbled into the wall with eyes shut, struggling to breathe through gritted teeth. His mind was whirring. Pain? Could this be the start of labour? But he was only 24 weeks! No no no no. This can’t be a contraction. The baby couldn’t come now. He slid down the hall wall and drew his feet in as close to his pelvis as possible, spreading his knees and throwing his head back, trying to breathe through the seemingly endless pain wracking into his bones. He knew he should call out for someone, but he barely had enough breath to keep himself conscious. He tried to shift himself to relive some of the pressure on his hips, but no movement ceased the intensity of the pain. Gripping at the hall rug beneath him, Roger took in as deep a breath he could, and whined out Brian’s name. Then Freddie’s. Then John’s.

 

It seemed like hours before he heard a door open and a pair of feet pattering across the carpet towards him. It was John, face pale and smothered in worry. Seeing Roger spread legged on the hallway floor brought the worst possible scenarios right to the front of his mind. Quickly kneeling down next to the blonde, John grabbed his hand and shouted for Brian and Freddie to call the doctor.

“What’s wrong Roger? Where does it hurt?” John asked firmly, putting on his brave face.

Roger moaned, screwing his eyes shut. “My fucking hips!”

Brian and Freddie came rushing out of their bedrooms, John barking orders at them left, right and centre.

“It’s okay, I’ve told Freddie to call Dr Simmons, everything is going to be fine.”

“It’s not fucking okay! It hurts so bad!”

Brian’s face came into view, instantly installing some amount of calm into Roger’s panicked heart. “I know, I know, Fred is talking to the doctor right now, okay?”

Tears slipped out of Roger’s ocean eyes. “The baby can’t be coming. Not now.”

Brian shook his head. “No, darling. I’m sure everything is okay. Please, stand up for me.” Taking his partner’s sweaty hands, Brian lifted him up and brought his arms around his neck, so Roger was practically hanging off him.

Roger groaned into Brian’s shirt, swaying from side to side in an attempt to lessen the pain still imminent in his lower body. “It’s all in my hips and pelvis.”

John scurried away, presumably to tell Freddie. Another agonising minute passed before the pair returned.

“The doctor doesn’t think you are in labour,” Freddie said, welcoming a sigh of relief from Brian.

“If it isn’t labour, what the fuck is it?” Roger demanded angrily, mashing his forehead further into Brian’s chest.

“He said it is most likely just the ligaments in your pelvic and hip area softening and the bones moving out. It’s very common during your stage in pregnancy apparently.”

“And very painful, fuck sakes…” Roger moaned.

“He said a bath might help?”

Roger lifted his head to look at the singer. “Then run me a bath.”

 

It took exactly thirteen minutes to prepare a warm bath, thirteen minutes of admittedly dulling, but still painful aching. Roger simply melted when he finally got in. Brian helped to lower him down, and stayed kneeling by his side.

“Does that feel any better?”

Roger hummed, nodding, letting his eyes slip close, ignoring the slowly subsiding ache.

“God you gave us a fright.”

The blonde let out a low chuckle. “I seem to be very good at that.”

“Not you,” Brian said. “That baby of ours!”

Roger nodded, cracking a sleepy smile. “Yeah, whoever thought of softening joints?”

“You’ll thank them when you’re pushing her out.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Brian paused for a second, combing though Roger’s hair with his long fingers. “Have you had anymore thoughts on the birth?”

Roger sat up a little in the bath, eyes still shut. “I still want a natural birth at the hospital, case anything goes wrong. Maybe some drugs, depends on how I feel. Let’s have a proper chat tomorrow.”

He nodded. “It is tomorrow, Rog. Its fucking three a.m.”


	24. Peaches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow it has been ages! I am very sorry for my inconsistent posting. I hope you enjoy this one!

“I still don’t understand why we have to come.”

“Because you like literally almost died last night,” Freddie said, striding quickly through the street.

Roger scoffed, trying to quicken his pace to match the singer’s. “No I did not! You did with all that panicking! The doctor said I was fine.”

“And he also rung this morning saying that he wanted you to come in just so he could check to make sure you actually are!”

Freddie hurried down the little cobbled lane, dragging Roger out to the prenatal and antenatal clinic for a check-up brought on by Roger’s… _episode_ the night before. Grumbling and huffing, the blonde grabbed Freddie’s small wrist.

“Jesus Christ slow down! I can’t keep up with you.”

Freddie turned and smiled sympathetically. “Sorry, dear. I forgot.”

“Forgot that I can only waddle now that I’m this fat? I wish I could forget that too.”

“You are not! Don’t you dare even say that. He’s just having a growth spurt,” Freddie scolded with furrowed brows. “Maybe we can find out the gender today?”

Roger chuckled, rubbing his stomach softly with one hand. “Nope, still want a surprise.”

Freddie groaned. “You’re so boring! Can _I_ find out at least?”

“No way!” Roger exclaimed. “You are the worst secret keeper. You’d tell everyone, starting with the fucking mailman!”

Shaking his head disapprovingly, Freddie said, “You have zero faith in me. I kept the fact that you were pregnant from the press for five months!”

“I’ll give you that one, dickhead.”

The door chimed as they stepped inside, like an old candy store but instead of candy it’s the contraceptive pill and ultrasounds.

The pair sat in the waiting room quietly, Freddie flipping through a birth pamphlet that Roger couldn’t even look at because it made him feel sick. As much as he loved Freddie, he wished Brian was there. He hadn’t seen him much lately, he always seemed to be wrapped up in his work, composing songs for their next album. It made Roger jealous, that he couldn’t play along on his kit. And it made him feel incredibly lonely, he often only got to just feel Brian when he crawled into bed long after Roger had tried to fall asleep.

The nurse called their names and led them into the familiar examination room. After greetings, Dr Simmons did his routine checks on the baby’s heart rate and fundal height, and checked Roger’s weight.

“I can definitely say that baby is completely fine. They’re perfectly happy,” the doctor said, sitting down to face the pair.

“Oh fantastic,” Freddie said, sighing in relief.

“But I’ll just get you to pop up onto the bed and we’ll have a quick look to check if you’ve dilated at all.”

Roger frowned, but clambered up onto the examination table without protest. Dr Simmons gave him a little modestly sheet to lay across his crotch as he removed his pants and underwear, laying half naked knees up on the bench. Freddie came to stand by his head to give him a little privacy.

Dr Simmons snapped on a pair of disposable gloves and poured a little lube onto his fingers.

“You know Roger has a boyfriend, right?” Freddie joked.

Dr Simmons chuckled. “Yes, and I assure you this won’t be as much fun.”

Roger grimaced as the doctor’s fingers entered his body, tensing at the cold, intrusive feeling.

“Please relax for me, Roger, it’ll be over in a second.”

“It’s hard to relax when someone’s fingers are roaming around inside your body,” Roger muttered, grasping the sheet beneath him.

Finally, the doctor removed his fingers and put the gloves in the bin, turning away so Roger could get dressed.

“So, you aren’t dilated, and your cervix shows no sign of opening. Like I said last night, the pain was most likely caused by the softening of ligaments around your pelvic area. It is a sign that your body is preparing for birth, but you aren’t going to go into labour any time soon.”

Roger nodded, fiddling with a loose thread on his t-shirt.

“I’d recommend you take it easy for these next few weeks, relax and enjoy the rest of your pregnancy.”

Roger chuckled sarcastically. “You’re funny, Dr Simmons.”

The doctor smiled. “I understand that its challenging, the lack of sleep, backache and breathlessness is never fun. But trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

“And just think, in sixteen weeks’ time you’ll be smiling down at that beautiful little son of yours.”

“You know gender still isn’t confirmed, right Fred?” Roger joked, gritting his teeth.

After thanking the doctor and accepting his pain management and birth preparation pamphlets, the pair left the small building. The crisp February air was light but biting, a thin slush of melted ice crunching under their feet. The pair walked in silence for a few minutes.

“Hey, are you alright Rog?” Freddie asked softly, glancing over to his friend. “You’ve been awfully quiet darling.”

“I’m fine,” Roger grunted.

Freddie raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Has something happened with Brian?”

“I said I’m fine, okay?”

Freddie stopped walking and pulled Roger’s wrist so he was facing him. “Talk to me Roger, I know somethings up.”

Roger pulled his wrist back and turned away. “I just feel a bit sick.”

Freddie stayed quiet, knowing if that he started worrying and coddling him, he would get angry.

“And I haven’t seen Brian in ages. Not properly at least.” The blond buried his hands deeper in his coat pockets, burning holes into the ground with his eyes.

“He’s been very busy with the album.”

Roger laughed a little. “Yeah, the one we haven’t even discussed yet.”

“You know he’s not avoiding you; he’s just trying to get work done before the baby comes.”

The blond nodded. “I know, but it feels like he’s ignoring me. I feel so caged up at home alone while you’re at the studio playing. I can’t even sit behind my kit, let alone play it.”

“I’m sorry honey,” Freddie said softly, not knowing how to comfort his friend.

“Like, I wish Brian had come today. I love you Fred, but it should be him. You shouldn’t have to stand in. He’s not anymore busy with the album than you are.”

Freddie nodded. “That is true. I think you should talk to him.”

Roger frowned. “I don’t want to. I know I’ll make it into a big fight.”

“No you won’t!” Freddie said, fishing Roger’s hand out of his pocket and giving it a squeeze.

“I just feel so gross and sick right now that I just don’t want to deal with it.”

“But I know you’ll feel so much better after. A good relationship is built on trust and communication, so you have to talk it out _before_ it becomes a big thing.”

So they went home, Freddie leaving after picking up an outfit that needed tailoring, John already out at the supermarket, leaving Roger to wait for Brian to get home. The longer he waited, the more nauseous he felt. The angrier he got. Even after his little chat with Fred, he still felt that Brian was purposefully avoiding him. He sat on the sofa waiting, tapping his foot, his anger having no where to go but onto poor Brian when he stepped through that door.

****

Oh how he had fucked up. He couldn’t do it anymore. Sitting in that tiny café on the corner, Roger decided that he could not go on. He couldn’t keep ruining all the good in his life. His head was pounding. His eyes were bloodshot and stinging from the threat of a fresh wave of tears. He felt like he was drowning, but no one had noticed. It was not the baby’s fault, he could never blame them for anything. It was not Brian’s fault, it never was. It was his, he knew that. Just the thought that if he had waited just a few more seconds none of this would have ever happened made him feel like his ice skate had slipped through the ice _. If only he hadn’t chosen to go skating that day._ If only he hadn’t decided the pick a fight. If he’d actually thought before he spoke. If he’d just cooled off, he wouldn’t be sitting here alone.

He felt terrible. He felt so nauseous, like his morning sickness had come back. He tossed his head back and stared at the ceiling, blinking away tears. He shakily got up from his seat and headed for the bathroom. The door shut with an unnecessarily loud bang. He threw up. It’d been months since he had last emptied his stomach into the porcelain bowl. Flushing the toilet and wiping his mouth weakly, Roger slumped back against the bathroom wall. This was definitely a low point; crying after having vomited in a café bathroom, sitting on its dirty floor. He knew that he probably just felt sick from stress, a _great_ thing to feel when you’re almost six months pregnant. Hauling himself up, Roger left the bathroom like nothing had ever happened.

He ordered a cup of black tea and resumed his seat. He took a deep shaky breath and choked down a sip. Closing his eyes, he ran through the moment where everything went wrong. Where he got angry at Brian, for just trying to do his job.

_“You’re always out of the house! Am I that horrible to be around?”_

_“I’m working, Roger, don’t be silly.”_

_“You couldn’t even be bothered to come to the appointment today!”_

_“Because I was at work!”_

_“Working on what? The album that we haven’t started?”_

_“Why are you so worked up?”_

_“Because you are never home anymore Brian!”_

_“Please, calm down Rog. It’s clearly just your hormones playing up.”_

_“Don’t you dare blame my hormones!”_

_“Why didn’t you bring any of this up with me, my love?”_

_“Don’t try that soft voice on me Brian! You never had the time! All you wanted was to talk about the baby and the birth! I’m the one who is going to have to push them out for fuck sakes!”_

_“Oh my god Roger, that is important stuff that we need to talk about!”_

And a lot more shouting later, Roger ended up here after storming out on his fiancé. It was such a stupid, petty thing for him to get angry over, and it most definitely was the hormones putting them both through the wringer, but part of him almost wanted to pick a fight. Some small, dark, twisted part of him wanted to have a good shout, to hurt someone. All of his emotions had been bottled up, and with the outlet of his drumkit taken, the bottle just burst. And poor Brian just happened to be in his line of fire. He didn’t deserve Roger’s unwarranted, uncalled for fury.

He couldn’t keep hurting people because he couldn’t handle his own emotions. He was about to have a baby for god’s sake, how would his temper withstand sleep deprivation and the trials of parenthood?

And that’s when Brian walked in.

Roger stared into his cup of tea, stirring it slowly, avoiding Brian’s gaze as he took the seat opposite him.

Brian sighed softly, opening his mouth to speak, but Roger began first.

“I am so sorry Brian. Please, that was so stupid of me. You didn’t deserve that.” He glanced up before continuing. “I know how busy you are, and I just felt so cooped up and angry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Brian smiled weakly. “I know. But I’m sorry too. For not being home. For spending too much time on my songs and not nearly enough with you. I love you.”

“I love you so much. I promise not to get so angry at you again.” Roger reached out and held both of Brian’s big hands.

“And I promise to put you and our baby before my work, always,” Brian said softly, brushing a few strands of stray blond hair behind Roger’s ear. “Please let’s go home, and take a nice shower perhaps?”

“That sounds lovely,” Roger said, smiling.

They got up, Roger leaving a few pounds on the table for the tea. Gently, Brian held him by the shoulders and pulled him into his chest. They stood there for a moment, wrapped up in their embrace, drinking in each other’s scent that they had missed so much.

 

The shower was warm and comforting. Brian’s hands rubbed gentle circles into Roger’s tense back. Leaning into his tall body, they swayed gently, eyes closed. It was a moment of such intense intimacy that they had never experienced before. Brian kisses his neck so softly it was a whisper across his skin. His skilled lips trailed up under his ear and around to the back of his neck. Their hands were entwined, resting on Roger’s bump. Their whole world smelt of peaches and a fuzzy haze of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we are! I went through a pretty sticky breakup while writing this, which is partially the reason why this took so long and is also definitely the reason why there is angst! On the other hand, it might be short but I loved writing the little shower scene at the end. Would you like more intimate moments? This sort of feedback really helps the quality of my work improve. Thank you all very much.


	25. Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok yes, its been a very long time since I last updated! I won't make any excuses. But, I have three chapters already written, and two more lined up, so get ready for regular updates! I never want this fic to end, I don't know what I'll do when I'm done. I love you all so much for sticking with me for all these months. Please, please comment your feedback and ideas, this poor baby still doesn't even have a name yet! I hope you enjoy <3

Roger woke up to Brian’s arms wrapped around his waist, one hand on his bump. Brian was softly breathing next to Roger’s ear, and he could feel the rise and fall of his chest on his back. Roger shifted his hips a little. They were getting sorer by the day, the ligaments continued to soften and shift out.

Brian’s eyes fluttered open. He sighed deeply and pulled Roger in a little closer, giving him a morning squeeze.

“I love you Roger,” Brian whispered softly, not quite knowing that Roger was in fact awake. “I love our baby. I love how you open your mouth a little when you are drumming. I love when you laugh, and it’s like you are reserving a little bit of laughter for later.” He started drawing patterns on Roger’s belly, decorating the stretched skin in squiggles. “I love your blue eyes. I love how your middle name is Meddows. I love how fired up you can get. You ought to have red hair with all that heat.” Brian kissed Roger’s back. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around a whole lot. I’m so sorry I made you feel lonely,” he said with another kiss. “I promise it’ll never happen again. I love waking up with you in my arms every single day.”

“I love it too,” Roger whispered, smiling.

Brian sat up a little. “I didn’t know you were awake.”

“Good morning,” Roger said, looking at Brian innocently. “That was a really lovely thing to wake up to.”

“And every word was true.”

“I am very lucky to have you, Brian Harold May.”

“And I’m extremely lucky to have you, Roger Meddows Taylor.”

“Come on, let’s get up you sap.”

 

“You want some toast, Rog?” John asked as the pair wandered into the kitchen. Freddie was sitting at the breakfast bar eating his new fad-diet all fibre cereal.

Roger nodded, sitting down next to the singer. Brian busied himself with making a round of tea.

“Doesn’t all that fibre make you shit a lot?” Roger asked, looking at the brown soupy stuff with a disgusted look.

Freddie laughed. “That’s exactly what it’s meant to do darling! It’s keeping me nice and regular.”

John scrunched up his nose. “We really didn’t need to know that Freddie.”

Freddie shrugged and went back to eating his brown sludge.

“So what’s on the agenda today, boys?”

Freddie straightened in his chair. “Well, there won’t be any more studio for any of us until the baby is born,” he announced. Roger looked down, slightly ashamed that it was his fault none of the could record.

“But that’s not a problem! I haven’t been able to write anything anyway. I’m getting too nervous about the big day!” Freddie said, wriggling in his chair excitedly.

Brian handed each of them a mug of tea. “We need to talk about that. We need to make a plan for when Roger goes into labour.”

John smiled. He was excited too. “Well I think you and Roger should talk that through,” John said. “Rog, you decide how you want your birth to go, and then tell us the plan.”

Roger smiled back, he was very glad that John wanted him to map things out first. It would be chaos trying to do it as a whole group, and even more chaos if they didn’t have a solid plan in place for when the time came. Plus, it was him who was going to push the damn thing out, and he didn’t want anyone else running the show.

“Right, breakfast and then the big talk!” Roger said, buttering his toast.

 

Brian wrote Freddie and John a detailed shopping list to get them out of the house for a while so they could have some peace and quiet for their discussion. Roger had been thinking a lot about what he wanted for the birth of his child, and was eager to share it with his fiancé and his friends. It was also his 24 week check-up tomorrow, so he could run his birth plan by Dr Simmons then.

Brian brought two cups of tea and a notepad over to the kitchen table and sat down next to Roger.

“So, any thoughts on the birth?” Brian asked, taking a sip of tea.

Roger took a deep breath. “I’ve thought about it a lot recently,” he started. “And I still want a natural birth at the hospital. I want to be able to come home as soon as I can, and recovery quickly too.”

Brian nodded, scribbling dot points down.

“I don’t think I want to use drugs anymore, though. I don’t really want to be high on laughing gas the first time I meet my baby.”

Brian smiled. “Okay.”

Roger took a drink of tea. “I definitely don’t want an epidural. Do you know how risky those are? I could end up paralysed! And for what? Not being able to feel my baby come out?”

Brian wrote that down quickly, underlining ‘NO EPIDURAL’ twice. “So you want to be able to feel everything?”

Roger nodded, eyes darting down in embarrassment. “I know it sounds weird, but yeah. I want to feel the pain, because that’s how I’ll know we’re okay. And I don’t want to look at it as pain, but as progress.”

The curly haired man smiled again. “That’s really nice, Roger. You are so _strong_.”

Roger smiled back shyly. “I’d also like to labour at home for as long as possible before we go to the hospital. I don’t want to spend more time in there than absolutely necessary.”

“Have you thought about having a homebirth all together?”

Roger shook his head. “I’ve thought about it, yes, but I don’t want anything to go wrong. Although I hate them, I’d feel safer at a hospital. Okay,” Roger pushed on. “I need everyone to stay calm when I do go into labour. I think you’ll be fine; it’s Freddie I’m worried about. I know his heart’s in the right place and that he’s just as excited as we are, but he has to stay calm. If everyone gets stressed and frantic, then I will too. I read that book that he got me for Christmas, and it says staying calm is the key to a smooth birth.” He took a deep breath, that was a lot.

Brian nodded, scribbling furiously. “Noted. And understandable,” He said, reaching over to squeeze Roger’s hand. “I just want everything to go as planned.”

Roger brought Brian’s hand to his lips. “Me too,” he whispered, kissing Brian’s rough fingers.

“It’s looking good,” Brian said, glancing at his list. “And if something does go wrong?”

Roger frowned. “If there is some sort of complication with the birth, then of course I’ll do what I have to do to make sure the baby stays safe, including having a caesarean. But I guess that’s all we can plan for,” He said. “Oh, and I want to get the nursery set up before I pass 36 weeks, because the doctor said that I’ll most likely give birth before I reach full term, which is fine for the baby, just common in male pregnancies and we need to be prepared.”

“Well the cot is built; I can do the change table whenever you want.”

“That’s all, I think,” Roger said, drinking the rest of his tea. “That’s the plan! It feels good that I know we’re on the same page now.”

Brian agreed.

 

When John and Freddie returned from the supermarket, Brian had written out their birth plan neatly on a large sheet of paper.

“This looks fantastic, guys,” John said after reading the sheet. “I think that’s a great plan.”

Freddie nodded in agreement. “Yes, its wonderful! And easy to follow. But, is that staying calm point aimed at me?” He asked in a playful tone.

Roger laughed. “Spot on, my dear.”

“Well, I’ll try my best, but it’s the birth of my first godchild! How could I not be excited?”

 

The air was surprisingly warm for mid-February, typical of England who could never make their mind up about the weather. Brian and Roger were off to the 24 week check-up with their freshly written birth plan, eager to get it approved by Dr Simmons.

When they arrived, they were sent straight through. The doctor started with the routine checks of Roger’s weight, the baby’s heartrate and how big they were based on the size of Roger’s bump.

“Oo, looks like we’ve got a good grower here,” Dr Simmons said, jotting down the baby’s fundal height on his clipboard.

“Is that a good thing?” Roger asked, pulling down his shirt.

“It’s perfectly fine. I mean that baby is larger than average based on how far along you are, and if they keep up this rate of growth you may go into labour sooner than we’d expect, even for a male carrier. Which is also fine,” Dr Simmons quickly assured the pair. “Nothing will happen to baby if they are born a little early, especially given their size.”

Roger nodded. “I was kind of expecting that. And, that’s great! The sooner I can meet this baby the better.”

Dr Simmons laughed. “You’ll meet them soon enough, son.”

The doctor did a quick ultrasound to make sure the baby was indeed growing properly, and printed them out a few pictures of their unborn son or daughter.

“We wrote a birth plan,” Brian said as Roger was wiping the cold blue gel of his round stomach. He produced the piece of paper and handed it to the doctor. He read it slowly, before looking up.

“This is a perfect plan, boys. I really don’t see anything wrong with it, or any reason why it won’t pan out like you’ve written.”

Roger sighed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Doctor. I really just want everything to go normally.”

The doctor smiled, placing a hand on Roger’s shoulder. “I’m sure it will. You’re a very strong man, Roger, I have faith that everything will be fine. I have a few pointers though,” Dr Simmons said, sitting down on his seat facing the pair. “We usually recommend coming to the hospital once your contractions have reached five minutes apart, unless your waters break before then. But, please call me as soon as you know you’re in labour. I completely support you for wanting a drug free birth, so breathing though the contractions will be your best friend. Roger said you had booked some birth classes?” Dr Simmons asked Brian.

He nodded.

“Good. They’ll teach you all about pain management there. I also recommend getting a birthing ball, they are fantastic for easing pressure. Did you have any more questions about the birth?”

Brian and Roger looked at each other. “Nope,” Roger said, satisfied with what Dr Simmons had told them. He felt a thousand percent more prepared for his baby’s birth, and so much happier that he had it all mapped out with his friends and doctor.

The pair gave their thanks and goodbyes before leaving the clinic and talking the sort walk back to their apartment.

“Now that we’ve got everything planned, I guess we’ll just have to wait for it to happen!” Brian said excitedly, swinging Roger’s arm.

“You know it won’t happen for ages though, like another three months? We still have to think of a name, too. Any ideas?” Roger asked.

Brian was silent for a second. “Nothing I’ve thought of is special enough for her.”

“Or him,” Roger corrected.

“Yeah, sure, I could be wrong,” Brian said in a mock voice, waving his hands. “But I know I’m not.”

Roger laughed at his fiancé’s unwillingness to be wrong. “I’m sure Freddie and John have ideas. Although, the only name I’ve heard from either of them was to call them ‘Frederick’, obviously a suggestion from Fred that we will not use.”

Brian smiled. “Well, you never know. We may never think of one, and will thank him for giving the baby his name.”

“That’s exactly what he said!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go! A bit of a longer one for you. Look forward to an update in the next few days, I pinky promise! I absolutely love hearing from you guys, so please comment letting me know what you thought. I'll also be posting a bit of a timeline for this fic really soon. Thanks again!


	26. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as promised!

“I want to make a photo album.”

Roger looked up from his book and over to Brian who had dragged his eyes away from the science program playing on the TV. “What?”

Brian turned and smiled from his place sitting cross-legged on the floor. “I want to make an album to document your pregnancy of our first child.”

Roger chuckled. “Sounds lovely. It’s a shame you didn’t get any photos of me kneeling over the toilet throwing up, that seemed to be a highlight of trimester one.”

“Very funny Roger, but seriously, we don’t want to forget any of this.”

Roger raised an eyebrow, resuming reading his book.

“Come on Rog! Don’t you want to be able to look back and remember your first pregnancy?”

“Not really, no,” Roger replied, flipping a page.

Brian frowned. “Well I do. Obviously I’m not the one to have gone through it, but I still want to be able to see your bump grow, and have the ultrasound pictures and memories of this time all accessible in one place. I’ll make it! You won’t even have to lift a finger.”

Roger sighed. “Okay, don’t let me stop you. Add to the one I started for you.”

Brian nodded, grinning, and sprung up from the floor and ran into their bedroom.

 

After carefully unsticking Roger’s bump photos from around their bedroom mirror and collecting all of the ultrasound photos he could fine (aside from the ones on the fridge, that was their place and they would stay there), he scurried back into the lounge where he had already dumped the half-done album Roger made for him for Christmas, a glue stick, a felt-tip pen and various pots of glitter Freddie had laying around.

“Do you really have to do that here?” Roger asked, still reading his book. He had wriggled down the couch so he could lay sideways while he read, and looked at Brian from under his wire-rimmed glasses. “I don’t need to be reminded that I’m still pregnant.”

Brian waved him away. “I need space to get my creative juices flowing.”

Freddie stuck his head out of the kitchen. “ _What_ juices flowing? Not on my nice Persian rug!”

“Go away Fred!” Brian called back, flipping the album open. The first page was a smattering of polaroids of him and Roger that Freddie had presumably taken when they first met. That would have been what? 1970? A whole six years ago! “Look at this one Rog!” He said excitedly, pointing to a photo of them hugging. “Our first hug!”

Roger glanced at photo and sighed, going back to his book. “Ah, back when I was still skinny.”

Brian gave Roger’s leg a light smack. “Don’t say that!”

“What?” Roger laughed, closing his book finally. “It’s true!”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that. You are still beautiful, even more so growing our daughter.”

“Or son,” Roger corrected exasperatedly. “You’re going to be a bit embarrassed if they turn out to be a boy.”

Brian shrugged. “They won’t. I can feel it in my waters, she’s a girl.”

“Well, we’ll know for sure when _my_ waters break and I give birth.”

Brian nodded, turning the pages in the album until he reached the first blank page, the page over from pictures of roger when he was just 17 weeks pregnant. “You can barely tell you’re pregnant here.”

“Those were the days,” Roger said offhandedly.

“How did you feel here?” Brian asked, shoving Rogers 18th week bump photo.

Roger sighed and rolled his eyes. “Scoot over.” He slid down off the couch and onto the floor next to Brian. “I guess I’ll help you, since you sadly can’t get inside my head.”

Brian smiled, attempting to kiss Roger on the cheek while he squirmed away.

“I remember I felt so much better than trimester one. The sickness was gone, which was fantastic. I felt the baby kick for the first time during that week.”

Brian glued the picture down on the black album paper. “That’s amazing!”

“And here,” Roger picked up their 22-week ultrasound photo. “The doctor said that the baby could hear stuff now.”

“And you had to stop drumming,” Brian said, writing carefully next to the picture he had just stuck down.

Roger pouted. “I don’t want to hold anything against this baby, but not being able to play the drums for at least five months after that point is a real sucker.”

“Ten weeks to go!”

The blond sighed, resting his hands on top of his bump. “Yeah, ten weeks too long. You know I catch myself drumming rhythms with my knife and fork at the dinner table? It’s worse when we are using chopsticks.”

Brian laughed, flipping to a new page, satisfied with his glitter covered first. “And this,” he said, showing Roger his 20-week photo. “Was just after I proposed.” The photo was of Roger with his shirt raised, hands around his belly showing off his brand-new engagement ring.

“The best night of my life. You did a good job on the ring, Bri.”

Brian shifted his eyes. “It was John who picked it out.”

Roger admired the ring on his finger, holding his hand out in front of him. “Well, he did a pretty good job. He’ll make a fantastic husband one day. Maybe I should have married him instead.”

Brian’s jaw dropped in mock-anger.

“Just kidding! Our children wouldn’t have nearly as curly hair if I did, and I love curly hair,” Roger said, giving Brian’s hair a playful ruffle.

Roger watched Brian for a few minutes as he continued sticking photos down and writing next to them. It was like taking a trip down memory lane, seeing all of those photos and ultrasound pictures dragged up things he had forgotten months ago, like the first kick, when his bellybutton finally popped out, and when his tight flares finally failed to zip up.

“This ones from the day Bohemian Rhapsody was released,” Roger said slowly, remembering. It was a photo of all four boys huddled around their new record, showing off their collaborative baby they had worked on for months. It was a perfectly lovely photograph, but something about it bothered Roger. He passed the photo to his fiancé and brought both hands to his bump. “It’s the day before we nearly lost them.”

Brian nodded, pulling Roger into a sideways hug. “I know, my love. But hey, we didn’t, did we? She’s still in there, nice and safe.”

Roger pushed his blond hair out of his eyes. “And as much as I hate being pregnant right now, I am so, so glad they’re in there.”

Brian smiled gently, bringing his hands to Roger’s tummy, feeling the baby kick under his palm. He gave the bump a kiss, and then one to Roger. “I am so thankful that I managed to knock you up,” said Brian. “Do you really hate being pregnant?”

Roger frowned for a second. “No,” he said softly. “I love feeling our baby move inside my stomach, I love thinking of our future with our son or daughter. Today's just a bit of a shitty day.”

Brian nodded sympathetically. “I hope I can make your shitty days a little less shitty.”

Roger laughed, sitting up a little straighter. His back was hurting. “Making your stupid photo album has already made my day better. I love you, Brian.”

“I love you,” Brian whispered, leaning in to kiss his fiancé. He managed to pull him in close by the waist, Roger’s hand coming to rest on his cheek, their knees slotting into each other in their matching cross-legged positions.

Freddie popped his head in the lounge from the kitchen where he was working on a new song with John. “You two may be engaged, but you’re still gross.”

 


	27. Shoes

It had just turned 12am, and the whole house was fast asleep, apart from Roger who was sitting on the bathroom floor rifling though the cupboard under the sink. He wasn’t actually looking for anything, he just had an intense urge to organise it. Next to him, he had the rubbish bin that was steadily filling with medicine that had expired in 1971 and various hair products none of them had used in years. He also had a growing list sitting on the counter of all the things he needed to do before the baby came. In his untidy scrawl he had scribbled:

  * get birth ball
  * nursery!
  * pack for hospital
  * wash baby clothes
  * wash my clothes
  * food shop ~ need ice-lollies
  * visit Brian’s parents!



He was already 34 weeks pregnant and the baby’s nursery wasn’t even set up! Well, by nursery he meant a corner of his and Brian’s bedroom, but at this rate the baby would be sleeping in its cot in the living room! And the bathroom was still a mess, possibly even worse than when he started.

What he really needed was a few plastic bins to dump all of their bathroom products in. Then the bathroom would never get into this state! Yes, Roger thought, a little trip to the store would fix this problem.

Using the bathroom counter, Roger managed to pull himself up (a massive feat considering the huge size of his baby bump) and left the bathroom, crossing the hall to his bedroom. There he saw beautiful Brian sleeping peacefully in a halo of dark tendrils. Ah, he thought, and finally checked his watch. 12:16am. He really hadn’t meant to stay up that late. Whoops!

Roger stood there, contemplating whether or not to drive himself to the nearest 24-hour Tesco and buy what he needed to finish what he had started. Making up his mind, picked up his shoes from atop the dresser (where he left them now that he could barely bend down), making the bedsprings squeak as he sat down to put them on.

“Roger?” A husky voice breathed out. Brian was turning, pushing himself up slightly in bed to look over at his fiancé sitting by his feet. “What are you doing?”

Roger continued to try to reach his foot over his bump to put on his trainers. “Going to Tesco.”

Brian sat up some more. “What? Why? It’s past midnight.”

Roger shrugged, standing up slowly after winning the battle with his shoes. “I need supplies.”

“What supplies? For what? What are you talking about?” Brian said, exasperated, and much more awake now.

Roger pulled on one of Brian’s baggy sweaters. “I’m organising the bathroom. Do you know how much expired medicine we have?”

Brian sighed deeply. “Rog, come to bed. It’s late. We can go to the shops tomorrow.”

Roger looked down and frowned. “But I just got my shoes on.”

“And I’ll take them off for you,” Brian said with a soft chuckle, a smile warm on his lips. “But can I ask why on earth you decided to organise the bathroom at this hour? Aren’t you tired?”

Roger shrugged again, sitting back down on the bed. “I just needed to do it. I tried to go to sleep, but my mind was telling me I really needed to clean the bathroom.”

Brian climbed out of bed and knelt down in front of Roger and begun untying his laces. “You must be nesting, I read about it in that book Fred got.”

Roger nodded, gently pulling his fingers through Brian’s hair, and act that was forbidden because it made the perfectly defined curls go all frizzy, but his hair was just so _soft_ he couldn’t help it. Brian looked heavenly. One side of his face, his glorious cheekbones, was gently lit by the hall light creeping in through their half-closed door. The light made his earthy curls a shimmery, silvery colour.

Brian stood up and placed the shoes back on the dresser. He came to stand in front of Roger again. Roger’s rough fingers trailed down Brian’s bare chest, feeling his ribs and muscle under the skin, before letting his hand rest on his heart, feeling the gentle rhythm. He stood up and placed his hands around Brian’s waist, staring into his pooled honey eyes.

“Brian…” Roger whispered. He pressed a hand to the middle of Brian’s chest. 

Brian breathed out slowly, still locking eyes with his blue-eyed beauty.

“I am all yours,” Roger said slowly. “So completely yours.”

Brian pushed a few strands of Roger’s blond hair away from his face. He leant down and brushed his fiancé’s lips with his own. “I promise not to hurt you. For you are a part of me.”

“We are one,” breathed Roger. “Us.”

“Us,” Brian whispered back. He gently pulled Roger into an embrace, feeling the baby kick inside of Roger’s bump on his own stomach. He took a deep breath of Roger’s scent. Sunshine. Fire. Peaches.

“Can I kiss you?” Roger softly asked, looking up at Brian.

Brian leant in close. “Always.”

Their lips locked in a moment of silent bliss. Roger’s hands brushed Brian’s bare back, his nails sending sparks down Brian’s spine.

Brian pushed his hands under Roger’s sweater, lifting it of carefully. Then he slid Roger’s sweatpants down his legs, letting his fingers trail down his soft skin. Brian kicked his boxers to the floor.

They stood in front of each other, naked, bodies shimmering in the pale hall light.

Brian begun at Roger’s jaw, gently kissing, brushing Roger’s neck with his lips, working down to his collarbone. Roger’s hands danced on Brian’s back, nails gently digging into the soft skin. His hands moved slowly up his spine, residing entwined in Brian’s impossibly soft hair.

Brian guided them over to the bed, laying Roger down ever so gently.

“Is this okay?” Brian asked softly.

“Yes,” Roger breathed; lids half closed with unadulterated bliss.

There Brian continued working his was down his body with his lips.

It was slow and passionate, not like their usual fiery, fierce sex. It was something neither of them had experienced before. Something done with such care, such purpose to show love. Something so intimate only midnight could bring. They had never been this close, this gentle, this slow and quiet. But that didn’t make it boring or bad, it enhanced it in every possible way. The near silence amplified the sweet, soft sounds of passion. The calm tempo enriched the feeling. They could feel _everything_ with such detail. Gentle hands made for better touch, caresses of the body. Slow allowed them to explore, to praise the body’s flaws with attentive fingers.

They went to realms far beyond where they had ever been before.

It was amazing. Who knew wanting to go to Tesco in the middle of the night would bring about something so impossibly beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I promised a timeline update, so here we go!
> 
> Roger got pregnant - start of September  
> They found out - mid October (8 weeks pregnant, 6 weeks since sex plus two weeks to count ovulation)  
> Rog started showing - start of November (10 weeks)  
> Start of second trimester - mid November (12 week appointment, start of 13th week)  
> Release of Bohemian Rhapsody + Roger's miscarriage scare - end of november (14 weeks)  
> Christmas - end of December (haha obviously, 18 weeks)  
> Freddie's party and Brian's proposal - mid January (20 weeks)  
> Roger's hip ligament issues - mid February (24 weeks)  
> Adding to the scrapbook - mid March (28 weeks)  
> This chapter! - early May (34 weeks)
> 
> I hope this helped! The baby is due mid June.  
> Also, I was thinking of doing a semi-graphic birth chapter. I don't want to give detailed accounts of all the gory stuff, I just want to give an accurate description of what labour is like. Let me know your thoughts!


	28. Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I've been having computer troubles :(

Soft yellow light filtered into the bedroom through the coffee coloured blinds, washing the world in lines of silky honey sun. A warm, fuzzy haze had settled over the bedroom, like sweet smelling smoke creeping into every corner.

Brian woke up with a smile already laced to his face. He dressed quickly in the half light, before leaning over the bed to gently squeeze his fiancé’s shoulder.

“Time to wake up, my love.”

Roger’s blue eyes fluttered open, settling on the curly mass of hair before him. “It’s so early,” he mumbled into his pillow.

“Not that early,” Brian commented, fixing his hair in the mirror.

Roger rolled over and sat up, stretching his arms above his head, yawning.

“Do you still want to go to Tesco?”

Roger nodded as he rubbed his eyes. “Well, maybe not Tesco. It was kind of my only option last night.”

 

“I almost broke my neck trying to brush my teeth this morning!” Freddie exclaimed dramatically when the pair emerged into the kitchen. “I nearly tripped on all my nice hair things that had somehow made their way onto the ground in front of the sink!”

Roger looked down sheepishly. “That was me, sorry Fred. I’m nesting! And you haven’t used those hair potions since 1973 when we moved in!” He claimed defensively.

Freddie scoffed.

Roger admired his nails. “With this new organisation I’ve planned, there won’t be such a mess.”

John handed Roger a mug of black tea. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t finish. Why begin cleaning but leave a bigger muddle than before?”

Roger took a sip of tea. “Well, it was midnight when I started.”

John shook his head. “You should have been sleeping! You know what the doctor said about taking it easy and getting lots of rest.”

Roger waved him away. “It’s not my fault!” He rested his hands on his bump, pouting. “The baby wanted a clean bathroom, so I had to give it to them. Brian had to stop me from driving to Tesco in the middle of the night to get boxes to organise it.”

John shook his head again, a look of feigned disappointment with a hint of a smile lying underneath. He slid a slice of cut-up cantaloupe onto Roger’s plate and gave him a light clip round the ear.

Roger laughed. “Thanks John, you’re so good at providing for me.”

Brian snorted indignantly. “Hey! He’s only doing it because you’ll let him. You won’t let me do a single thing!”

Roger’s face softened. “Okay, I’ll allow you to chauffeur me to the shopping centre then.”

“You should have married John, darling,” Freddie said to Roger lightly, picking up his comb and brushing his dark hair.

“Maybe _you_ should, Fred. Then you’d never have to do your own hair a day in your life,” Roger suggested with a playful grin. A slight blush had crept up John’s neck as he turned his back to start cleaning up their tea mugs.

John came out from behind the kitchen counter and grabbed the comb off Freddie. “Sit up straight then,” He said, parting the singer’s hair.

Roger smiled at the pair. He got up and took his and Brian’s plates over to the sink. “Well, have a fun little braid party. Brian and I are going to buy some more shit.”

 

Roger leaned his weight on the shopping cart as he and Brian wandered slowly though the large store. The amounting pressure on his hips and pelvis was getting worse by the day as the baby continued to test the limits of his aching body.

Already in the cart was a few baskets of various sizes, which Roger had already placed in the house with his mind. He also carried his list from the night before, jotting things he needed to do down as he went.

“We need to get some coat hangers,” Roger said, turning the cart down a new aisle. “You know, the little ones for baby clothes.”

“Do you think we have enough clothes for her?”

Roger rolled his eyes sarcastically at Brian’s insistence on gender. “I think so, but then again, how many clothes do babies wear?”

“The lady in that class we went to said that you might need to change their clothes up to 6 or 7 times a day.”

With a raise of his eyebrows, Roger grabbed three packs of hangers and chucked them in the shopping trolley. “Jesus. I forgot. Maybe we should get some more just in case.”

Brian nodded again, looking over at his fiancé. “Are you sure you don’t want me to push the cart?”

Roger waved him away. “No it’s okay, I need something to lean on. Let’s go look at more little clothes.”

Brian grinned. Looking through all the tiny baby things was his favourite. And soon, they would actually have a baby to put in all the wonderful outfits they bought.

 

Happy with their abundance of clothing hangers and baskets, the pair paid and left the shop to go to the nearest mother and baby store.

“Do you think when we get home you could put together the change table for me? I want to get the nursery set up this week.”

Brian smiled over at his boyfriend thumbing through the racks of soft baby suits. “Of course my love. We can move our room around this afternoon if you’d like?”

“I’d love that,” Roger said with a relived smile. It would be a huge weight off his shoulders to have the nursery set up, so if he did go into labour sooner rather than later the baby would have a proper place to stay.

“Oh, look at this one!” He said happily, pulling out a pale yellow onesie with short ruffled sleeves.

“We are definitely getting that,” Brian replied, before showing Roger a green hat and sleepsuit set that he positively swooned over.

They picked up a few more baby basics, just to be sure they had enough. They could always donate the excess baby clothes after they had grown out of them, or keep them for the possibility of more children on the horizon. They had bought bibs, onesie sets and an array of tiny baby socks along with more bottles and a sterilising kit. This baby certainly kitted out.

 

Once their shopping was done and the pair were on their way back to the apartment, Roger pulled out his list again.

“I’d really like to meet your parents before the baby is born,” He said. “We are getting married and I am pregnant with their first grandchild and I haven’t even met them.”

Brian nodded, slipping one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze Roger’s thigh. “Of course, my love. How about in a fortnight? Then that’d give us plenty of time to get ready for the baby. I’ll give them a ring when we get home.”

“Thank you,” Roger said, ticking off the point on his crumpled list. “While you’re setting up the change table, I’m going to start washing the baby clothes. I’ll put all the laundry on, and then finish organising the bathroom while it’s going to fully optimise my time,” He said, mapping out the rest of the day in his head.

Brian smiled. “Look at you using fancy words.”

“It’s very important to be efficient! And we don’t know how much time we have left.”

Brian stole a quick glance at his lover scribbling away at his list. “That sounds very ominous for putting on a load of washing.”

“But it is very true.”


	29. Laundry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic fluff!

“Hey Brian, can you bring me those baby clothes we bought today?” Roger called from the laundry where he was frantically stuffing the machine with millions of tiny baby things.

Brian popped into the laundry room with his curly tendrils tied up in a knot. His sleeves were rolled and along with the bag of clothes he also carried a screwdriver. “There you go, I’ve started on the change table so that’ll be done soon.”

“Thanks,” Roger said, dumping the bag out into the washer. “I’ll finish the bathroom in a second.” He switched on the machine and turned around, brushing his hands together with a satisfied sigh. “There we go! That’ll only take an hour, then I’ll whack it in the dryer, fold it all and we can finally put it away!”

Brian led them out of the room, the washer tumbling to life.

“Everything’s finally coming together,” Brian said, turning into their bedroom where he was constructing the flat pack.

“It sure is!” Roger said over his shoulder as he went into the bathroom.

 

Finally it felt that everything in the bathroom had its place. All of the hair products were in one basket, the facial stuff in another, and lastly the vast collection of Freddie’s bath salts in the other. The three baskets slotted into the cupboard under the sink perfectly. He had also organised all of the medicine in the cabinet, and even changed all of the towels and bathmat.

It was safe to say that Roger’s mind felt much calmer. He felt that he’d satisfied his nesting urge. Even the baby was happy, settled in his tummy, only giving the occasional soft kick. He stood at the door and looked into the room with deep feeling of gratification.

“That looks great, Roger,” Brian said, coming up behind him and looking over his shoulder.

Roger smiled, weaving his arm around Brian’s waist. “Thank you! How’s the bedroom going?”

“Well I’ve finished the change table and John dragged the cot in, so we are ready to put it where you want.”

Roger nodded, stepping up the hall to their room.

 

It took a good hour of pushing and shoving to get Brian and Roger’s bedroom set up ready for the impending arrival.

Their bed was opposite the door under the window. The wall adjacent to the bed and door had their wardrobe and mirror. All of the baby things fell in the corner opposite the bed. There was the crib sideways against the wall, with the changing table next to it.

They had cleaned out a large draw in their own dresser for baby clothes, the others going on hangers on a tiered rack near the crib, and into the storage draws under the change table.

“Finally,” Roger said. “I feel so much better now it’s all set up.”

“Me too,” Brian agreed, stepping back and appreciating their handiwork. “Now all we have to do is wait for the baby to fill it.”

 

Roger sat cross legged on the bed with a huge basket of laundry piled high with baby clothes sitting next to him. He’d managed to get all of the clothes washed and dried within 2 hours, and was now folding them ready to go into the draws under the change table Brian had built.

“I just spoke to mum on the phone and she says she’s very excited to meet you,” Brian said, walking into the room and sitting down next to Roger on the bed. He grabbed a babysuit and began folding.

“That’s great! I’m excited to meet them too,” Roger replied.

“I can’t believe you never have. I mean, I’ve known you for almost six years.”

“Agreed,” Roger said, scooting off the bed and placing the freshly washed clothes in the draws and on the rack.

“Now, how many baby clothes do we bring to the hospital?” Roger asked, grabbing the large duffle from the closet and opening it out on the bed. 

Brian made a few quick calculations in his head. “Maybe 4 outfits.”

Roger nodded. “The baby is definitely coming home in the onesie John bought me for Christmas.” He fished through the draws and found the soft suit he was looking for, chucking it in the bag. On top of that he shoved three more onesies, four pairs of baby socks, two tiny hats and four baby singlets.

“We’ll also need nappies and bottles and stuff, won’t we?” He asked. 

With a rustle of plastic Brian ripped into one of the nappy packs and tossed Roger a large handful.

“That should do it,” Brian said. “We can always send the boys out for some more if we need.”

They also added three bottles, a pack of pacifiers and two baby blankets to the bag.

Brian smiled. “That should be enough baby stuff, don’t you think?”

Roger nodded. “That’s plenty. Now what about me? What do I wear?”

Brian opened their closet, thumbing through their clothes. There were so many things that Roger hadn’t worn for months, so many things that just didn’t fit.

“Comfortable clothes,” he said.

Roger pushed in next to Brian. He picked his favourite sweatpants, a pair of soft shorts, three of Brian’s tee shirts and a bunch of underwear.

“Apparently there’s going to be a lot of blood even after the baby is born,” Roger said, squeezing the clothes into the bag.

“Yummy,” Brian said sarcastically. “Sounds like fun.”

Roger laughed. “You bet!” He zipped up the bag and popped it on the floor next to their bed. “I’ll put my toiletries in when I actually go into labour.”

Brian sat back down on the bed. “I’m glad that the bags packed. I feel much more prepared now.”

Roger sat down next to him and breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Me too. I can’t wait for the baby to get here.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this chapter is late and a bit on the short side. I have just started work and school again, and my workload is bigger than ever. I might only be able to update every once or twice a week, but I'll try my best! I have two chapters already written so look for those next week. I hope you enjoy!


	30. Car Rides

“Do you still really want to do this?”

Roger rolled his eyes, grabbing his car keys.

“Yes Brian, I do.”

“But...isn’t it a little close to your due date to be driving all the way up to see my parents?”

“I’m not due for another month! And besides, I want to meet your parents before the baby is born.”

Brian frowned, closing the door behind them. The pair walked down the stairs and out to Roger’s car parked on the street. Roger went around to the driver’s side and squeezed himself behind the wheel.

“Um...don’t you think I should- “

Roger huffed, interrupting Brian’s nervous speech. “No, it’s fine! I’m not so pregnant that I can’t even drive my own car.”

Brian backed down, and climbed into the passenger seat. He knew better than to argue with his very pregnant fiancé.

“Alright, but if you get tired or want to swap, let me know.”

 

The road up to Brian’s parents was bumpy, not to mention twisty and winding. Not a comfortable road to drive on.

After about two hours, Brian knew that they’d have to stop soon for Roger to use the bathroom.

“Do you wanna stop soon?” Brian asked.

Roger shook his head. “Nah, if we stop we’ll never get there.”

They were silent for a few minutes, until the tape finished. 

“Can you put on another Beach Boys please?” Roger asked softly, taking one hand off the wheel to rub the underside of his swollen belly.

Brian raised an eyebrow. They’d been listening to The Beach Boys for the past hour and a half. “You sure you don’t want to listen to something else?”

“No! I mean, I just love The Beach Boys,” he corrected himself offhandedly. “Smiley Smile, please,” He asked for the taped album casually.

Brian obliged, not wanting to annoy the drummer while he was driving.

A few songs in, Brian finally remembered something. The first few months of Roger’s pregnancy. How sick he was. And how much Beach Boys they listened to. Listening to that band was just about the only thing that could help let up Roger’s nausea. He could focus on Brian Wilson’s ingenious lyrics and use of instrument and detailed sound and take his mind of throwing up every five seconds. Brian stole a glance at his fiancée. He certainly looked pale. And he kept rubbing his tummy and taking slow sips of his water.

“You feeling okay?” Brian finally decided to ask.

Roger frowned. “Yes,” he said a little too quickly. “Why do you ask?”

Brian sighed. He really didn’t want to start an argument right now. “Because we are listening to The Beach Boys.”

“And? I just said I liked listening to it?”

“You only listen to them when you feel sick.”

Roger rolled his eyes. “Can’t I just like the music?”

Brian sighed again, why did Roger have to be so stubborn? “Roger, please let me drive the rest of the way. I know you don’t feel good right now and pushing yourself really isn’t a great idea at 36 weeks pregnant.”

“I know my body, Brian, and if we just keep listening to them I’ll be fine.”

“Well then at least pull over so you can catch your breath?”

Roger gripped the wheel tighter, now visibly agitated. “Like I said before, if we keep stopping we’ll never make it!” By now, Roger also has a splitting headache, and wanted nothing more than to pull over and let Brian drive the rest of the way. And, he did really need to pee. But he wasn’t about to let Brian go on thinking he was so weak and useless he couldn’t even drive his own car!

The car was quiet for a few moments, the only sound being the strange organ and fender bass combination of the Beach Boys hit single ‘Good Vibrations’, Roger’s favourite song by them, coming out of the tinny radio.

They passed a sign showing a park was only a kilometre away.

“Could you just stop at this park?” Brian asked again, annoyance creeping into his voice.

Roger let out an angry huff. “Leave me alone Brian! Fucking trust me for once!”

“I do trust you Roger,” Brian said lowly. “But you aren’t well. Pull over and let me drive.”

“No.”

“Stop being so stubborn.”

“No!”

Roger knew exactly how stubborn he was being, but that was the whole point. Stubborn people don’t give in so easily.

“Oh my god Roger, fucking pull over you’re being so irrational!” Brian practically shouted.

Roger swerved into the parking lot dangerously. “Fine!”

As soon as the car was parked, Roger yanked out the keys, jumped out and slammed the door.

“Happy now?” He shouted through the closed window. He turned around and stomped over to the public toilet block as fast as he could.

Brian knew he fucked up now.

 

Roger stayed in the toilets for a good ten minutes. He went to the loo, threw up and even had a little cry sitting on the toilet seat. When he finally waddled back to the car, Brian was waiting, leaning on the passenger side door.

“I’m sorry for yelling, Rog,” Brian said softly, shame creeping into his face. “I know better than to argue with my pregnant fiancé, but I was just worried. I know I should have let you be.”

Roger sighed and smiled weakly. “I’m sorry too. For being stubborn and grumpy.”

“You’re allowed to be grumpy, you’re 36 weeks pregnant! But I just get so worried. Constantly pushing yourself further and further when you’re this pregnant can’t be good for either you or our baby,” Brian said, reaching out and placing his hands on Roger’s shoulders.

Roger nodded, wrapping his arms around Brian’s waist and pressing his face against his chest. “I know,” he breathed out, feeling significantly better.

“You still want to drive?”

Roger laughed. “I wanted to stop driving about half an hour in.”

“Oh you are an idiot,” Brian said gently, not meaning a word. He opened the door and Roger climbed into the passenger seat. He bent down a little and said, “I don’t think you’re weak. I’m not trying to take driving away from you, and I don’t think you need me doing everything for you. I think you are so strong for carrying that baby, and you deserve to sit back and relax, let me take care of you for these last few weeks.”

Roger nodded again. “Thank you Brian. I think I just needed someone to tell me.”

This is how all of their arguments finished, with both parties admitting to their mistakes and apologising. They were a completely dysfunctional couple, but they loved each other so much regardless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I know I've never actually mentioned the Beach Boys in this yet, but I just had too because I love them sm! My favourite songs are Heros and Villains, Good Vibrations and Getting Hungry. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!


	31. Posters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This might be one of me fave chapters for some reason, I hope you like it!

Brian and Roger walked hand in hand up the small rose lined path to the front door of the homey townhouse. After a quick rap of knuckles, Brian’s parents Ruth and Harold flung the door open.

“Hello my dears!” Ruth exclaimed, swooping in to give her son a hug.

“It’s so nice to see you both!” Harold said from behind her.

After releasing her son, Ruth turned to Roger. “It is lovely to finally meet you Roger,” She said, wrapping him in an inviting hug.

“Yes,” Harold agreed. “It is a pleasure to welcome you into our family.”

Roger blushed as he was ushered inside. “Thank you, you are both too kind.”

“Goodness dear, that baby is huge! How far along did you say you were?” Ruth asked as she led them into the spacious living room. “You’ve dropped a lot!”

Roger lowered himself down onto the sofa. “36 weeks, I’ve still got a whole month to go!”

Ruth chuckled, pouring them each a cup of tea Harold had brought in. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“Yes, even the doctor said she was an excellent grower,” Brian said, sitting down next to his fiancé.

Ruth whipped her head around. “Was that a she I heard? Is it a little girl?”

Roger chuckled. “We don’t know the gender, but Brian is still convinced it’s a girl.”

“Well, I thought Brian was going to be a girl too, and look how that turned out!”

Brian frowned playfully. “I know I’m right, okay Mum?”

Harold laughed at his son’s sarcasm. “Now, how is everyone? How are the other boys?” Harold asked, taking a sip of his tea.

“We are all going great,” Brian said smiling. “Everyone is getting very excited for the baby, especially Freddie. He can’t wait to be an uncle.”

“I bet they are!” Harold said, gently clapping his son’s knee. “And how are you feeling, Roger?”

“Excited, yes,” He replied. “I feel a bit guilty that we all had to stop playing though.”

Harold chuckled. “You’ll be back behind the kit soon enough, son. Now, speaking of music, Brian did you see this guitar…” Harold turned to Brian and they plunged into a deep all-guitars conversation.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, dear. Parenthood comes easily the second the baby is born. I remember feeling so scared about delivering, about what came after that, but it really did just come naturally.”

Roger smiled, resting a tired hand on his bump. “Thank you, Ruth. I was actually wondering if I could ask you something,” Roger asked. His mind had been quite focused on one thing for quite a while, but he hadn’t had the chance to ask.

“Of course you can, anything at all.”

“How do I know when I’m actually going into labour?”

Ruth smiled knowingly. “You just know.”

“But are there any signs? I just don’t want to be caught out.” Actually, one of Roger’s biggest worries at that moment was missing the warning signs of labour and not having the time to prepare.

“Well, there are quite a few, actually. First, the baby drops, but that could be some time before labour begins. Then comes the Braxton Hicks contractions. You’ll get more and more as you get closer to labour. And for about a day before it happens, you’ll have this awful pain in your lower back, like a cramp that won’t go away. During all of this, you’ll probably be nauseous and feel a lot of pressure growing down there,” Ruth listed. “It’s pretty nasty, and quite confusing. I thought that the active labour part was better than the early stages.”

Roger ran a hand down the length of his tummy. “Thank you,” He said, feeling readier than ever. “I’m quite excited to go into labour.”

Ruth smiled, reaching over and squeezing his knee. “And so you should be! It is such a fantastic, beautiful experience.”

“And you’ll have Brian to support you on the tough endeavour,” Harold chipped in after finishing talking to his son. “And Freddie and John. You’ll have to bring them up after the baby is born. We’d love to have you all stay.”

“Thank you, you have both been so welcoming,” Roger replied heartfeltly. He yawned, finally feeling the tiredness of carrying around a huge baby all day.

Brian put an arm around his boyfriend. “Yes, thanks Mum and Dad, but I think it’s time for us to go to bed.”

Brian’s parents wished them sweet dreams and gave them both another hug.

 

The bedroom was the one from Brian’s childhood, the grey walls still plastered in various band and star constellation posters. Leo, Orion, even the southern cross.

Roger sat down on the small double bed, lying back in the next instant.

“Come on, Rog. You have to at least get changed and brush your teeth,” Brian said, pulling Roger back into a sitting position.

“Dress me,” Roger said, looking up at Brian from under his long lashes. The tall man smiled fondly, recalling the memory of when Roger demanded the same thing many months ago, the day they first noticed his baby bump. They had certainly come very far since then.

Brian gently lifted Roger’s soft tee shirt over his head and chucked it in their open suitcase on the floor. Roger leaned back on the bed, both hands behind his back holding himself up. Brian couldn’t help but flatten his large hands on Roger’s stretched skin, feeling every beautiful river and path his stretchmarks had created.

“I swear she gets bigger every day,” Brian whispered, looking up at his fiancé in awe.

Roger smiled. “They definitely do. There isn’t much room for them to move anymore, so you might not feel anything. I think their back is facing you, and their head is well down now. I only feel kicks at the top of my belly,” Roger paused, bringing Brian’s hand to the top of his bump, close to his chest. “And to my lungs and stomach, which are feeling very squished.”

Brian frowned sympathetically. “It’ll all be over soon, my love. Speaking of which,” Brian started, helping Roger into a fresh top. “When do you think you’ll go into labour?”

Roger sighed, standing up and using Brian as stability to kick off his maternity leggings and put his pyjama shorts on. It was May now, and the weather was finally starting to heat up. Plus, Roger felt hot pretty much all the time now.

“No idea,” He finally replied. “I talked to Ruth about early labour signs, so I’ll know when I am at least. The doctor said that anytime now would be fine considering the baby’s size.”

Roger stepped across the hall into the bathroom. He squeezed out some toothpaste onto his toothbrush and begun brushing.

“I don’t think it will happen any time soon,” He said, toothbrush still in his mouth. “I have a feeling that they’ll stay in for as long as possible.”

Brian walked into the bathroom and wrapped his arms around Roger’s waist, giving him a hug from behind. “You never know. With the amount of shocks we’ve had with this baby, I wouldn’t be surprised at all if you went into labour tomorrow.”

Roger rinsed his mouth and smiled. “I guess we’ll just have to play the waiting game.”

The pair got into bed, Brian resuming his usual position of lying on his side with his arms around Roger’s waist. The brunette fell asleep almost instantly.

Despite his bone-gnawing tiredness, Roger was still awake. He was thinking about what Ruth said about early labour indicators. His back was almost always aching, but that was just supposed to be normal, wasn’t it? He had had a lot more Braxton Hicks contractions in the past week than he’s had through his whole pregnancy. And, he felt nauseous during the car ride to Brian’s parents place, but he didn’t think that was out of the ordinary, it didn’t take much to make him feel sick these days. And to top it all off, the baby was already _huge_ , and had dropped into his pelvis a lot over the past few days. What if he was about to go into labour, or already was, just in the early stages?

Roger brushed it off, chalking it up to just feeling nervous about the encroaching ‘big day’. But would, like Brian said, going into labour tomorrow be all that bad? He really just wanted this whole thing to be over. Sure, his pregnancy had been a beautiful, special experience, but it had certainly not been without its ups and downs. In total honesty, all he wanted was his baby to be out of his stretched tummy and in his arms. He wanted to meet his child, and the sooner the better.

But Roger knew he was just reading too much into what had Ruth said, he was willing himself to believe that he was about to go into labour. He wasn’t due for another month! This baby wasn’t coming out anytime soon.

Or were they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun...guess you'll just have to wait and see!  
> Also, might have dropped the name for the baby in here somewhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhh thank you so much for reading! I really hoped you enjoyed it. Comments mean the world! Feel free to let me know how you feel about this chapter and any requests you have for future ones! I should hopefully be updating every day or so. Thanks again and have a fantastic day x


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